


ninety-six colors and counting

by peculiarblue



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, And of course..., Colors, Everyone Is Gay, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Language, Pining, REDKY NATION I AM HERE TO FEED YOU, Underage Drinking, everyone being besties, just lots of kisses towards the end bc red deserves all the happiness in the world, really had to do my crayola research for this one folks!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarblue/pseuds/peculiarblue
Summary: There is a good bit of irony in the fact that Red’s favorite place on his college campus is their coffee shop, and that Red’s least favorite drink in the world is coffee. But one pretty boy barista seems to have made it his mission to change his mind.(coffee shop college AU)
Relationships: Big Red/Ricky Bowen (HSM: The Series)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	ninety-six colors and counting

**Author's Note:**

> REDKY NATION! I HAVE ARRIVED!
> 
> i am appalled at how tragically little there is out there on the two cutest boys in literally the entire world, so i've decided I WILL NOT REST until the redky agenda is advanced properly (i say this, as i literally have three rina drafts and a spideychelle rewrite open in different tabs.)
> 
> for real i had so much fun with this. i got excited and wrote it kinda fast so i apologize for any errors, and also the fact that i, like Red in this story, actually hate coffee. so i'm sorry in advance for any inaccuracies a simple google search provided me :)
> 
> theres a texting section in the middle of this:  
> bold is red  
> italics is ricky
> 
> total AU, the whole gang is bffs at college together (except for Ricky and Nini, no one knows them! yet!)
> 
> okay, here i am forcing the redky agenda on you all, if the writers aren't brave enough to do it, i will soldier on and write literal novels for them without hesitation!
> 
> love to you all <3

There is a good bit of irony in the fact that Red’s favorite place on his college campus is their coffee shop, and that Red’s least favorite drink in the world is coffee.

He’s tried, for real, for _years_. But he has never found it in him to enjoy the bitter black taste, or any overly-sugared variation of it. Ice or no ice. Latte’d. Frappe’d. Espresso shots in the middle of a midterms week all-nighter. Nothing. He could not get himself to enjoy it, any way it tasted.

But the coffee shop was nice. It was cozy and warm and peaceful in the way the rest of the busy and bustling campus never seemed to be, over-achievers running to and from every other academic building around them. But people who fared at the coffee shop were different, or so Red liked to imagine. The hanging plants were vibrant and hung in the sunlight of the front of the shop’s glass panels, there was always some sort of indie music playing that Red had grown an affinity for, and the plush seats of the booths were homey in a way Red couldn’t describe. He had taken up at spot in the back corner booth early on in his freshman year, leaving the stools and the benches and the counter-tops to the others. He set up shop one rainy fall day in that booth and never looked back. Him and his blueberry muffin and his laptop and blue mechanical pencil and his chamomile tea. Not coffee. Anything but.

He liked the place yeah, but nothing about how much he liked the atmosphere could cancel out his general distaste for what his best friend Ashlyn would claim is the _nectar of the gods_.

She swears she’s gonna sell him on the stuff one day. And every time she does, Red just laughs and swirls his tea bag around his mug.

“No way!”

“Yes, yes way. _God_ this guy’s an asshole,” Red tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he listens to Ashlyn complain on the line, “I cannot believe I’ve been here, what? 3 semesters? And I’ve already had this guy _twice_.”

“It could be worse,” Red shrugs, trying to keep his backpack from falling off his shoulder after pushing through a crowded intersection of the pathway, “My sociology professor is about a hundred years old and already assigned four chapters of reading.”

“Yeah but we’ve—”

“He ‘longs for the America of his youth’, Ash.”

“Okay, maybe you win this one,” Ashlyn concedes, and Red laughs as he turns another corner on campus, “Especially because you’ll never believe who sat next to me today…”

Red pauses for a second, then gasps suddenly, “Oh my god _she’s in your class_?”

“Yes!” His friend squeals, “Mystery beer pong girl, I fell in love with you last semester in a sweaty frat house before I lost you in a crowd of testosterone, but ma’am, you have never been lost in my heart.”

“Are you high?”

“Not yet,” his friend snickers, “But I’m serious, I’m gonna get her number.”

“In like three months.”

“Realistically, yeah,” Red laughs, as Ashlyn continues, “But I _did_ lie about where I was headed after class so I could walk with her and talk to her longer, so… I’m gonna be a few minutes late.”

“Leaving me so soon, I thought we _had_ something, Ash!” Red feigns hurt as he pushes the door open to the coffee shop, where he and Ashlyn have been meeting for a standing study date every Tuesday since their freshman fall. He drinks in the familiar smell of his favorite place, his first time back since the break between semesters.

“Shut up. You know my order, right?”

“Could never forget it,” Red hums, looking around while he gets on line for their drinks, spotting their booth empty and waiting for them in the back corner. He continues, mumbling absently, “I think they got new stools at the counter over the summer.”

“As long as they still have that couch in the back by the bookshelf,” Ashlyn says on the phone, Red takes one step up in line, “I decided that’s where I’m going to take mystery beer pong girl on our first date.”

“Please tell me we will call her something other than ‘mystery beer pong girl’ by then.”

“It’s just so much more fun this way,” his friend giggles, “Anyway, are those mock trial kids still causing a scene?”

Red looks around for the small group, they would meet every other week and take up a huge table back by their booth, and while amusing at first, usually their bickering was only headache-inducing for the two friends. After a quick glance, Red settles on, “No, I don’t see them. Maybe they’ve found another place to torture.” He takes another step up in line, one person away from ordering.

“Maybe we’ll get a new set of regulars this year,” Ashlyn hums, “You know procrastinating my reading by creating full personalities and lives in my head of all the people that come into the shop is my favorite pastime.”

Red laughs again, “Yeah, you can count me out of that today while I do a million pages of sociology reading for my older-than-dirt MAGA professor,” Red digs into his pocket to get his wallet out, the girl in front of him finishing up, “But I do see some newbies in here for you.”

The girl takes her change and smiles, stepping to the side to wait for her order, signaling Red to step up to the kiosk. He’s still kind of looking down at his wallet, listening to whatever Ash is starting to say, so he doesn’t think much when the voice of the barista at the register cheers a polite, “Hey there, what can I get for you today?”

Red looks up just then, and honest to god, falls in love on the spot.

“You.”

He bites on his bottom lip just as fast as the one syllable is out of his mouth, fumbling with the phone still tucked to his ear and trying to make sense of the swooping sensation in his stomach.

“Huh?”

“ _Two_ ,” Red rushes to say, sure his cheeks are a nice compliment to his bright hair at the moment, “ _Two_ medium iced coffees, please.”

_What the hell_ , man.

“Sure,” the barista and his heaven-sent brown eyes look down to key the order into the computer, and Red feels like dying in that very split-second. Please. He’s begging. “Anything else?”

Yes.

“Nope, that’s it.”

“Alright,” he smiles, and _holy hell dig his grave right now_ , “That’ll be $4.98.”

Red smiles awkwardly and pushes his debit card into the small machine, rocking back up his toes, ignoring the confusion he’s hearing from Ashlyn in his ear, because yeah, she’s not the only one confused at this situation right now.

Teen-heartthrob in a brown apron grabs two cups from his right, picks up a sharpie while Red waits for his card to be approved, “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“My name?” Red repeats, like, damn, someone _this good looking_ wants to know _his_ name?

“For the order,” pretty boy taps the sharpie on the lip of the cup, and god, Red can feel himself sinking into the tile floor.

“Right, right, yeah,” he shakes his head, _for the order_ , “I’m Red.”

“Two iced coffees for Blue,” the barista looks down to scribble something on the cup, and Red feels his heart beat right out of his chest when a little curl flops over his forehead.

He flounders for words for a second, then, answers dumbly, “Red.”

“Purple.”

“Sorry, it’s _Red_ , like the color.”

“Yellow?”

“I don’t—” Red shakes his head, pulling his debit card out and pushing it back into his wallet. When he looks up again, pretty boy is smirking at him, this wildly heart-attack-inducing smirk, and it makes Red’s stomach flip again, “Oh.”

They stare at each other for what, to Red, feels like it could span all four years of his undergraduate career at once, but is probably no longer than 2 whole seconds.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Red feels Ashlyn run up out of breath behind him, and just like that, the trance is broken. Any courage to banter back that Red had been building up in those lifetimes of seconds is _poof_ gone, vanished.

She doesn’t notice anything is weird though, her hand resting on Red’s arm, “Did you pay already, Red, cause I can—”

“Oh don’t worry, you’re all set,” the new love of Red’s life says to the pair, and Red convinces himself he imagined the way his perfect little smile dropped slightly when his eyes flitted down to Ashlyn’s hand squeezing Red’s arm reassuringly. “Two medium iced coffees for Red, coming right up.”

And Red lets out his first breath in three minutes. He shoves his phone in his pocket, finally, and steps to the side with Ashlyn.

“Am I still asleep in my American Lit lecture or did I just hear him say _two_ coffees?” Ashlyn eyes Red as she goes to grab a handful of sugar packets from the small display.

Red bites his lips together to keep from screaming.

Because again, _what the hell_ , man.

“Is that guy new?” Red whispers to his friend as she taps her foot lightly, waiting for their drinks. He taps his foot double-time.

“Who?”

“The guy at the register,” Red sighs, “I’ve never seen him before.”

Ashlyn shrugs, eyes narrowed at him a few feet away, “Yeah, could be. Why?”

“No reason,” Red rushes to say, even though he knows there is _definitely_ a reason. A big, fat, crushingly embarrassing reason, “Just didn’t know they were hiring here.”

“Well, my cousin quit last semester, or got fired, I don’t really believe his story,” Ashlyn says, just as another employee slides their drinks on the counter, “So I guess there was a spot?”

“I forgot EJ used to work here.”

“And _still_ makes the worst coffee,” she dumps two packets of sugar in her cup, then heads for the container of almond milk. She eyes the other half of the order, “You gonna grab that?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Red shakes his head and takes the iced coffee, feeling foreign in his hands. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with it, even after years of watching Ashlyn drink the stuff, he’s coffee clueless. He drinks tea and eats blueberry muffins! He doesn’t do this!

But now pretty barista boy is looking at him, or maybe not _at him,_ but in his direction, at least briefly, for a moment, and Red cannot look like an idiot, or at least, any _more_ of an idiot, god, even his train of thought feels ridiculously embarrassing at this moment, so he gets a grip and shadows Ash, picks up a packet of sugar and the small silver container of milk. His lactose intolerance will hate him later. One more look into those brown eyes and Red is certain— some sacrifices just _need_ to be made.

He swirls the drink around with a straw, sees the barista is taking another order, and Ashlyn is gone, so he caps his cup and runs over to hide in his back corner booth.

“What made you finally give in?” Ashlyn teases as she sips on her drink, gesturing to Red’s copy.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, but this boy is still right in his line of sight and it’s getting increasingly more difficult to not have his eyes spontaneously burst into big, cheesy cartoonish heart shapes.

“Well, whatever it was _I’m glad_ , it’s about time. You need the caffeine. I hate how every movie night ends up with me having to explain the plot three times because you can’t keep your eyes open,” she says, flipping her laptop open, “But seriously, I—”

Red tears his eyes away from the guy at the register for a moment when Ashlyn suddenly stops, mid-sentence, “What?”

“Uh, nothing, it’s just— why does my cup say, _like the color_ and then…” she narrows her eyes, at the cup in her hands, a finger smudging over the sharpie writing, “Yeah, the next parts scribbled out, but I think it says—”

What. The. Hell. No, correction: what the _fuck_.

“Let me see, probably a mistake,” Red scrambles to grab the cup out of Ashlyn’s hand, peeking once up at the barista before down at the writing.

In sloppy black writing, that Red has to squint to make out, the cup reads:

_like the color_

_~~and your cute blush~~ _

Red drops the cup, the lip popping off and spilling its contents across the table.

“Dude, what the hell!” Ashlyn yells, picking up her laptop in time to not short circuit in spilled coffee.

Yes, Ashlyn, that _does_ seem to be the sentiment of the hour.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Red scoots out of the booth and goes to grab some napkins, hurries back to wipe up his mess.

“Are you okay?”

No.

“Yeah,” Red sighs, the wad of napkins a gross and wet consistency now, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him, holding her hands out, “Here, gimme those, I’ll throw them out on my way to get myself another one.”

Red hands her the napkins but shakes his head, “No, just drink mine.”

“What? No, it’s fine I’ll—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna drink it, Ash,” he says, back with a new stack of napkins to finish wiping up the spill. And it’s not like he needs the caffeine, his whole body still buzzing with the information that the world’s most perfect-looking boy really _was_ flirting with him. There’s just no way to sit on this quietly.

“C’mon, I’ve waited _years_ for you to try coffee!”

“I still don’t like it I just,” Red huffs, the table finally dry again, “I ordered it on accident.”

“How do you order an iced coffee on accident?”

“Pretty easily, actually,” Red says, sitting back down, and maybe his gaze drifts ever so slightly back to the barista, hoping he hasn’t seen this mess unfold, or maybe he _is_ looking and he’ll see his ‘cute blush’ again.

“Oh my _god_.”

“What?”

“Oh my god!!”

“Ash?”

“God, this makes so much more sense now,” she laughs at something, Red isn’t sure what, but she finds it delightfully hilarious, sitting back on the cushion behind her, reopening her laptop, “ _Wow_.”

“Are you gonna elaborate?”

“Pretty boy barista is _your_ mystery beer pong girl!”

“What!” Red practically wheezed, trying to play it off, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, he’s—”

“Red has a crush!” She sing-songs, swinging her feet underneath the table.

“I do not—” he starts to yell, then lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning up and across the table closer to her, “I _do not_ have a crush.”

“You have a crush, Red,” she snickers, “ _Like the color_ , oh my god.”

“Be quiet!”

“Do you understand how ironic it is that you’re flirting with a guy who makes coffee?”

“I understand fully and it’s not been a very fun past ten minutes living it,” Red grumbles, bounding his left leg, “I panicked.”

“I see that,” she says, still smiling.

“He asked what I wanted and I literally answered ‘ _you_ ’.”

“You did not.”

“But I did,” Red says, kicking Ashlyn’s shin under the table as she continues to laugh at his embarrassment, “So I tried to cover it up and ended up ordering _two_ iced coffees. And now I can’t take it back. I’m a guy with a color for a name who likes coffee.”

“Well it’s not _technically_ your name.”

“Did you want me to tell him my real name?”

“I like the color, the color is good,” Ashlyn nods, “This is adorable.”

“It’s not, I don’t have a crush,” Red affirms, “No, I just recognize he’s an objectively attractive guy. It’s like a _fact_. Not like I’m sitting here thinking about how his eyes practically twinkled at me and his perfect smile and how cute it looked with his nose scrunched up and the little curl that fell over his forehead and his biceps in that shirt and oh my god, Ash, _I have a crush_.”

“Ya think?”

He kicks her again for good measure.

“But I’ve been an idiot ever since I made eye contact with him,” Red concedes, knowing full well there’s no recovery for this, “And he scribbled out the flirty part of the cup.”

“He still wrote it.”

“But he took it back.”

“Maybe not,” Ashlyn shrugs, “Maybe he’s just overthinking this as much as you are.”

“I don’t know,” Red watches the guy take someone else’s order, the last in the long mid-afternoon rush line, and falls in love all over again when he smiles.

“Only one way to find out,” Ashlyn perks, slides a five dollar bill across the table, “You, sir, owe me a coffee.”

“I said you could have mine,” he pushes the bill back, putting his untouched iced coffee in its place.

“No, Red, you _need to go up to the cashier and buy me a new coffee_ …”

Red is silent for a moment, the money pushed back into his hand, then he un-scrunches his brow, understanding, “I hate you. No way.”

“ _Go_ , lover boy!”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s the semester of fun and flirty! C’mon!” she gives him a nudge, “ _I_ talked to mystery beer pong girl, _you_ gotta talk to pretty boy barista.”

He’s about to protest again, but Ashlyn gives him _that look_ , and when you’ve been best friends with someone for this long, there’s a slim chance you can ignore _that look_ for any longer than 30-seconds. He’s up and out of the booth and ready to let the ground swallow him whole and back in front of the coffee shop’s register.

“You’re back?” Red is startled by the way the barista speaks first, his smile light and airy.

“Yeah, another medium iced coffee, please,” Red chokes out, and he literally could not be any worse of a human being.

“Gee, was my first attempt that bad?”

He’s joking right? Red doesn’t have much experience in playful banter, but the guy is still smiling, and its making Red’s chest do a weird fluttery thing.

“Yeah, I think there was some sort of mix up, I got someone else’s coffee.”

“Oh really?” He quirks one eyebrow up, and Red is a goner.

“Yeah, my cup didn’t say anything,” Red says, “But my friend’s was for someone named ‘ _like the color’_. Weird, right?”

“Totally,” the barista hums, his lips pressed into a line, “Your _friend_ , huh?”

Red tries not to think about the way he hopefully lingers on that word. Nope, not gonna think about it.

“Her name’s Ashlyn, and well, my name’s—”

“Blue?”

“Purple.”

“Oh, my bad, not yellow?”

“Green works too,” Red shrugs, and plays with Ashlyn’s five dollar bill in his hands.

“But definitely not red.”

“Definitely not red,” but Red knows his cheeks are definitely red, bright red, blushing the most crimson shade they’ve ever been.

“So your _friend_ ,” pretty boy barista clears his throat, “She needs a new coffee?”

“Yup,” Red rocks back nervously on his heels while the order gets keyed into the computer.

“Anything _you_ need?”

“Your name,” Red says, surprising even himself, “Because I mean, it’s definitely not Ricky.”

Red points to the small name tag pinned to the barista’s apron, and takes his nervous laughter as a small victory.

“Definitely not Ricky,” He says, biting his bottom lip and _good god_ Red is losing every bit of strength he has, “But you don’t wanna know my real name.”

“Can’t be worse than mine.”

Red is three heartbeats away from asking him to fill the coffee cup he picks up with his laughter instead. It’s so beautiful it melts right through him, this little giggle that makes his sloppy curls bounce. He starts to speak again as his laugh patters out, “Sorry again, about your friend’s coffee.”

“Oh no worries, she’s in a really good mood after talking to this girl she’s thought was cute for months, so, not even me spilling her drink all over her could ruin that,” Red shrugs.

Red watches the sharpie spin between his fingers, before he smirks and gets to work writing something else.

“You writing a novel, there?” Red chimes in, when Definitely Not Ricky is still scribbling, then spins to fill the cup behind him.

“Just don’t wanna risk another mix-up, you know?”

“Right, of course,” Red hums, as he watches his coffee cup fill up, “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on me,” Ricky nods, holding the drink in his hand, lid capped on, as he turns to face Red again.

“Oh no, seriously, dude, I can—”

But he shakes his head firmly, “Consider it a gift, for your _friend_ ,” he smiles, then continues at Red’s puzzled expression, “For talking to someone cute. I know how hard that can be.”

Red feels every hair on his body stand up with Ricky looking at him like that, and without noticing it, Red moves to grab the cup, his fingers brushing Ricky’s in the hand-off, and then really, there’s no words for that feeling anymore.

“Thanks, she’ll appreciate it.”

“Yup,” he nods, “Nice meeting you, Definitely Not Red.”

“Same here, Definitely Not Ricky.”

Ricky’s fingers finally let go of the cup, and his stare finally lets go of the grip on Red’s heart, and the redhead is able to walk away and back to the booth without wanting to scream and/or cry.

“So?” Ashlyn says when he slides back into the seat, the iced coffee and five dollar bill still in hand, “Oh my god, do _not_ tell me he paid for your drink.”

“He paid for my drink,” Red echoes to Ashlyn’s squeal.

“Who knew Red had game?”

“Shut up, I don’t have game he literally just—” Red stops when he squints at the new writing on the cup, “Okay, yeah, maybe I have game.”

_someone cute_

_(and very easy to talk to)_

Red tries not to go back to the coffee shop the next day. Nope. He’s not gonna do it. He’s not gonna be that guy.

But he _so_ badly wants to.

He’s like, one step away from middle school, ready to scribble his crush’s name in the margins of his college ruled notebook paper.

He holds out though, because he can’t look _too_ desperate and honestly, he does not have the kind of money to be spending on coffees he’s not going to drink every day until he sees the really pretty barista again. There is a medium amount of desperate Red isn’t shying away from though, because, he stresses, _really pretty barista_ , and that’s why when EJ asks Red for Econ help one Saturday afternoon a week since Red’s seen those gorgeous brown eyes, really, the script just writes itself.

He’s not saying he gets to the coffee shop earlier than he’s supposed to just to see if he can have five minutes alone with his pretty boy barista crush but… no, actually that’s _exactly_ what he’s saying.

The shop is crowded for a Saturday afternoon, and Red gets on line immediately, practically still pressed up against the entrance. He texts EJ for his coffee order because he doesn’t know it by heart, and even if he did he probably wouldn’t be able to hear it over the loud beating of his heart. Crushes are the world’s worst invention, confirmed.

He’s minimally distracted by the time he reaches the front of the line, but it doesn’t even get put to use. Ricky isn’t working today.

“Why do you look like your puppy just ran away when you were playing basketball in the driveway with your brother and he chased after the ball and you lived on a very busy road?”

“I feel like none of my sadness right now is as concerning at how very specific that question just was…” Red eyes EJ warily as he slides into the booth across from him.

“So you admit you’re sad?”

“What happened to your puppy?”

“Oh my god accept my rare caring gesture and answer the question!”

“It’s stupid, we’re here to work on Econ, not lament my short-lived flirtation with the really cute barista,” Red mumbles the last part as he pulls his laptop out of his backpack, but EJ picks up on it and runs.

“Woah woah woah, wait, absolutely _nothing_ is more important than this statement,” EJ perks up, leans his elbows on the edge of the table and leans up closer to Red, “I knew something was up, Ashlyn wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Because she’s a good friend with standards,” Red rolls his eyes, “C’mon, I’m in the PowerPoint for lecture two, slide 47—”

“Who is it?”

“EJ…”

“I’m gonna fail the class anyway, just let me have this,” EJ huffs, and Red tries not to let his amusement show, “I used to work here, you know.”

“And?”

“ _And,_ that means, my good friend, that I can help you,” he sits up even more in his seat, giddily, meddling surely his favorite pastime, “I could talk you up, teach you some coffee terminology so you sound smarter, hell, I’m pretty sure I’m still on the email chain they send the schedules on so I could set you up—”

“No, no, we’re not doing any of that,” Red says sternly, even though his heart flips at the thought of impressing Ricky with barista slang. It’s pathetic, really, how little is required to make his heart feel like free-falling, “He’s not even here.”

“And that’s why you’ve got lost puppy eyes.”

“And that’s why I’ve got lost puppy eyes,” Red says, shaking his head, “But it’s _stupid_ , I mean, I’ve been coming here two years. I see _one_ guy one day, have _one_ singular conversation with him and he writes _one_ nice thing on my cup, and all of a sudden I don’t know how to act.”

“That’s not _one_ thing, it’s like, four.”

“Jeez, you’re gonna need more help with this than I thought,” Red deflects, flipping open his old Econ notebook, “It’s basic math, EJ. It doesn’t add up.”

“Yeah it does.”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“Hey, Econ makes sense to you, _love_ makes sense to me,” EJ smirks, sipping lightly on his coffee, fingers drumming on the edge of the booth, “So let me be the judge of that.”

“If you get my hopes up and he’s straight, you owe me blueberry muffins until you graduate.”

“I can live with that,” EJ smirks, “Not a single person who works at this place is straight Red, I promise you.”

Red glances over at the lineup of employees behind the counter, considers it for a moment, then turns quickly back to EJ, mouth hanging open, “Wait, did you just—”

“So, supply and demand, huh?”

It’s not until about two hours later that their cups are empty and their brains are full and Red is really tired of trading the minimal information he has on pretty boy barista for Econ notes with EJ (because it somehow doesn’t seem like a fair trade… but he plays along anyway because _feelings make no sense_ ). Red watches customers file in and out, studies every barista who takes to the register between studying Econ, finishes his tea and tries to crane his neck behind the back door behind the counter when he goes to throw the cup away. The sun starts to set, and EJ is definitely getting his hopes up, but Red’s laughing too hard with his friend the whole time to dissuade himself from hoping just a little.

“Hey, sorry but I gotta run,” EJ looks down at the time on his watch and starts hurriedly stuffing his books away, “Not that this has not been _the highlight_ of my week, but I um, I’m supposed to be meeting someone in a half hour.”

“Ooh, EJ Caswell has a hot date?”

“ _Shut up_.”

“Oh my god, _I_ was joking but _you’re_ obviously not,” Red laughs as a blush rises onto EJ’s cheeks, “Is there something in the air here?”

“Must be the caffeine,” he shrugs, teasingly, pulling his backpack over one shoulder, “You better keep me updated.”

“Um, I’m offended we spent two hours discussing my pathetic love life when you are actually going on a date!” Red yells, but EJ is already slipping out o the seat, smirking.

“ _Goodbye,_ Reddie.”

“Bye Jay,” Red rolls his eyes at the dumb nickname, and spots EJ’s empty coffee cup still on the table, “Dude, seriously? Now I’m cleaning up after you?”

“Text me later!” And he’s already out the door. Red sighs and closes the tabs open on his laptop, shuts his books and puts all his belongings back into his backpack before zippering it up. It’s about 6 when he’s set to go, and he’s texting Ashlyn to ask if she 1) knew about EJ’s secret date, and 2) if she wanted to get dinner with him.

His chin is tucked, typing away furiously on his phone because Ashlyn’s defending the fact that she didn’t tell him about EJ’s date with the fact that she also didn’t tell EJ about Red’s crush, and so again, he’s not really paying attention to his surroundings when—

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s—” Red looks up, one hand on his shoulder where he just bumped into someone and _sees him_ , “Uh, it’s totally okay. Very okay.”

There’s a soft chuckle that Red is sure makes his heartbeat ripple, and all that’s running through his head is _Ricky_ with a million pink hearts around it.

“Medium iced coffee,” Ricky says softly, before nodding down to EJ’s empty cup, “Here, lemme take that for you.”

“Oh, no it’s fine, I was heading out anyway,” Red tries to keep the color to his name and not his cheeks.

“Dude, it’s literally my _job_ ,” Ricky hums and takes the cup from Red’s hands lightly, “Do you ever get sick of this stuff?”

“Coffee?” Red’s eyes widen, “Nah, I, uh, every time I drink it here it’s like tasting it for the first time.” And it’s only like, a half lie, right?

“That was the most poetic thing anyone’s ever said about our cheap, name-brand coffee, dude,” Ricky laughs and the sun is setting but it feels like sunshine.

“Well, it’s true, this is my favorite place on campus,” and now it’s really not a lie, Red knows. His breaths come more evenly (as long as he doesn’t stare too long at the floppy curl on Ricky’s forehead).

“Same, I’ve been coming here since freshman year,” Ricky rocks back on his heels, “It was like the second day of classes, and all of a sudden, it started raining, like, _torrential_ downpour, and I was so lost. Couldn’t find my way back to dorm for the life of me. So now, I’m like, dripping, soaked through my sweatshirt, and run into the first building I see to call my weirdo roommate who, unrelated to this story but I feel like a detail you should know, identifies as a legit _ghost hunter_. And I realize I’m in this little coffee shop. One of the baristas saw me, sitting there wet and cold and like, very much on the verge of tears, and he handed me a free vanilla latte. And so, I’ve been addicted to the place ever since.”

Ricky finishes his little story, his eyes wide as he gestures animatedly with his arms. But then he catches Red’s eyes again, and suddenly gets nervous, “I mean, not that you asked for that dramatic backstory or anything, I just started kinda rambling on you which, probably makes me sound like such a weirdo and—” and oh my god, is he _nervous_? Ricky, the prettiest boy Red has ever seen, is _nervous_ , talking to _him_? “—and you’re like, leaving and my shift started like, ten minutes ago, so I should probably save myself and just—”

“Vanilla latte, huh? Don’t think I’ve ever tried one of those.”

Ricky finally takes a breath, and bites his bottom lip before continuing, “Yeah. Figured if I was gonna spend all my time here drinking them, might as well get paid to do it.”

“Smart,” Red shrugs, “I would probably do the same, but I think I’d be terrible at it.”

“No way, it’s really not that hard,” Ricky says, taking a step back to toss Red’s (EJ’s) coffee cup in the trash behind him, “Or, it _is_ hard and I’m just gonna get fired soon.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Red beams, “I mean, who would write dumb things on my orders?”

“Oh, _dumb things,_ huh?” Ricky traces back a few more steps, until he’s walking behind the counter, Red follows opposite him. Ricky loops his uniform apron swiftly around his neck before picking up a hot white cup.

“What are you doing?” Red follows Ricky’s movements with his eyes, playing with the strap of his backpack nervously.

“Thinking of another _dumb thing_ to write for your coffee.”

“I didn’t order any coffee,” Red says quickly, panicked, because he really dug himself a hole here and he’s gonna have to learn to like this shit. Just to see the little smile that’s creeping up on Ricky’s face right now alone.

“Yeah, well, it would go against all my morals and values to continue talking to you when you’ve never tried the best coffee flavor out there,” he caps the sharpie before turning to fill the cup, leaving Red awestruck.

“You realize how ridiculous it is that you’re claiming the best coffee flavor is _vanilla,_ literally vanilla.”

“Bold coming from a guy who drinks exclusively medium iced coffees,” Ricky rolls his eyes playfully and Red bites back a wince. It hurts. It wounds him. Ricky is so cute and Red _hates_ coffee, “Just try it. One sip. _For me_.”

A low blow. That’s it. Because _of course_ he’s gotta do it now. _For me_.

Red takes the cup gingerly with both hands, smiling sheepishly over the brim when he slowly brings it up to his lips, Ricky leaning forward on the counter with a smile that almost doesn’t fit on his face. He sucks in a deep breath, and takes one itty, bitty, tiny sip.

_For Ricky_ he smiles and hums approval but _for himself_ … he’s using an ungodly amount of resolve to not spit the small sip out.

“Damn.”

“What? I like it, it’s good,” Red lies through his teeth, and tries to see how convincing he can be about faking his next sip with the cup just resting on his lips.

“Don’t lie, I can see right through you,” Ricky says, and leans just a little bit closer, and now Red’s just realizing how close together their faces are. He loses himself looking into Ricky’s eyes for who knows how long, probably only seconds.

“It’s probably just the guy who made it for me,” Red shrugs, and it makes Ricky smile a little bit wider. Red can practically see Ricky’s breath hitting his cup, “Maybe you should try it, just to be sure.”

Ricky moves only slightly to wrap his hand around the cup and bring it to his own lips. It feels weirdly intimate in a way Red can’t describe, but a feeling he wants to keep living in for much longer than the mere seconds it takes to transpire. Ricky slurps the latte faintly, and Red can’t suppress his giggle.

“Well, I know you hated it, but I gotta say, vanilla latte is definitely a good look for you,” Ricky says just above a whisper.

“What?”

“You got a little…” Ricky shrugs one shoulder and points to Red’s lips.

Panicked and flustered, Red brings a hand to rub at his lips immediately, feels himself wipe off a little foam.

“It’s not fair that you were spared the embarrassment of getting latte foam stuck on your lips this close to me,” Red nervously chuckles, eyes averted as he wipes his hand on his pants leg.

“Well, I mean, you could just pretend there’s something there and help me—”

Red’s phone blares to life.

He jumps back in so much surprise that he almost knocks the coffee out of Ricky’s hands, and he’s really gotta stop making a habit out of that.

He pulls the phone ringing out of his pocket and sees Ashlyn calling. Shit, he was supposed to meet her for dinner.

“Sorry, about that, I uh, I have—”

“No worries, it’s my bad. I kept you here,” Ricky smiles politely, “Nice to have nice company on this awful shift.”

“Yeah man, Saturday night? Rough.”

“No one ever wants them but I don’t know, it’s working out for me so far.”

Wow. He’s so smooth Red feels like he’s on ice in sneakers, flailing to stand upright.

“I should uh, let you get to going, wherever you’re uh, going,” Ricky speaks up again, waving Red off, “I’ll owe you a medium iced coffee.”

“I think _I’ll_ owe _you_ , you keep paying for my drinks.”

Red’s halfway out the door by the time Ricky just shrugs and yeah, okay. Maybe he could get used to tripping over his own two feet. _Smooth_.

(Later that night EJ asks Red if anything interesting happened after he left, or more specifically if _anyone_ interesting happened, and Red screams through the phone because EJ totally checked out the work schedule and set him up to run into Ricky when he knew he’d be coming in for a shift. But he assures him he really did have a date though. And with the faint feel of latte foam on his lips, he really can’t find it in himself to be all that mad anyway.)

Red has to tell the story of that night at the coffee shop to at least three people out loud before it sticks in his brain that it really actually happened. Because after Red stepped outside that night, he just couldn’t wrap his brain around it. He was being punk’ed probably, hidden cameras in his coffee cup or something. Or maybe he was a part of some psychology study they were doing on campus. Or maybe he just hit his head really hard when he fell off his skateboard one day and he’s still waiting to wake up.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel real until he walks through the steps of it several times. And then suddenly it’s all he can think about.

Ricky. Ricky. _Ricky_. And his vanilla latte and adorable smirk and his tight black uniform t-shirt and _god_ it was so hard not to let his train of thought keep going.

He couldn’t afford to daydream at the moment, cutting it _very_ close skating to class the next Monday morning. He swerves and dodges other students on the path, focusing on not hitting anyone instead of the guy hitting on him. He’s got just a few more minutes to make it to the science building in time for his lecture. Is it a coincidence that he passes the coffee shop and can afford a longing glance through the window on his way? Absolutely a coincidence. And nothing more. Obviously.

He’s about to start his ritual heart-eyes stare at the coffee shop counter when he hears someone calling his name.

“Red?”

It’s like the powers of daydreaming manifested him into being.

“Ricky, hey, what are you doing here?” Red says, dumbly, glancing between the boy and the glass window he was about to look for him in.

“Uh, I work here,” he laughs, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop you or anything, just, wanted to say hi before I headed inside.”

“Almost didn’t realize it was you,” Red says, catching his board and tucking it under one arm, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me just Red.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t diss my latte the other night and stuck around to read what I wrote on your cup…”

“You’re gonna run out of colors eventually,” Red laughs brightly, and feels the time ticking away and his appearance at his lecture hall getting later, but he doesn’t find a reason to care.

“Impossible,” Ricky boasts proudly as he toys with the collar of his denim jacket, “Maybe I could prove it on a trip to the skate park one day.”

No way. _No way._

This is doing very very bad things to Red’s poor and unsuspecting gay heart.

“Uh, yeah, cool, cool, that would be um…”

“Cool?”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” Ricky echoes, and it makes Red’s heart hopscotch around his chest, “But in the meantime, let me get a head start on trying?”

“What?”

“Gimme five minutes, or, I mean—” Ricky starts running towards the shop’s entrance, and stops briefly to turn back to Red, “If you have five minutes, I didn’t mean to ambush you or whatever.”

He does not have five minutes.

“I’ve got five minutes.”

Red fiddles with the skateboard in his hands as he waits, watching his class attendance feel less and less important by the second. He pulls his phone out to text his friend to save him a seat. Class started two minutes ago.

By the time he’s sent three frantic messages back and forth, and has adjusted his flannel and swiped a hand through his unruly hair, the door of the shop finally opens again and Ricky walks quickly back up to meet him.

“Are you allowed to be doing this?”

“Shh,” Ricky waves him off, grinning, “This is important company business.”

“Oh yeah?” Red raises his eyebrows, and takes the to-go cup from the other boy.

“I owed a very important customer a medium iced coffee,” Ricky’s voice lilts, melodic.

“Dude, I _told you_ you owed me nothing,” Red bumps his shoulder against Ricky’s and it makes him giggle, a gorgeous tune, “And I’m pretty sure you’re the only one in there who thinks I’m anything special.”

“Well I sure hope so.”

_Music to Red’s ears._

“Okay weirdo,” Red teases, before dropping his skateboard at his feet, “I gotta, uh, get to class.”

“Right, yes, ‘course,” Ricky nods, gripping the door handle behind him, “I’m serious about the skating thing though. _That_ you do owe me.”

“How should I—”

“Just get to class and drink your medium iced coffee, Periwinkle.”

“Oh, I hated that.”

“Just trying it out…” Ricky quirks his head to one eye and squints at Red as he slowly steps back into work, “…Aquamarine?”

“Don’t quit your day job, vanilla latte!”

Red doesn’t need the caffeine in the cup by the time he reaches his lecture hall. The giddy buzz running through him does not need any assistance. And his brain is back to all _Ricky Ricky Ricky._ Playful banter with _Ricky_. A skating date with _Ricky._ A medium iced coffee from—

“You ditched me for a _barista?_ ”

“Can you be quiet?” Red whisper-yells as he slips into the seat next to his friend Gina in the second to last row of the giant lecture hall, fifteen minutes into class. He places the medium iced coffee on her small desk and leans down to get his laptop out without attracting any more attention.

“You didn’t answer me,” she taps her phone screen, referring to his frantic texts from before, and continues to whisper, “Since when is _coffee_ more important than entertaining your dear friend during the most boring lecture to ever exist?”

“I’m barely late, you are just the most dramatic person I know.”

“Thank you,” she smirks, sliding the cup of coffee closer and taking a sip, “Answer my question or I won’t accept your apology.”

“You’re already drinking my coffee so I think the apology’s been accepted,” Red grumbles, and opens a doc for notes he knows he’s not going to take.

“ _Your_ coffee?”

“Do _not_ give me that look. I know EJ tells you _everything_.” Red fights an embarrassed blush, and flicks the straw at the top of the cup, “Make me say it and I’ll take that back.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Red _like the colo_ r,” she bats her lashes innocently, and takes another slurp, “But seriously, EJ only told me what he had time to text before his date got back from the bathroom. So spill.”

“Oh my god, even _you_ didn’t know about that? You guys practically share a braincell I—”

“Stop deflecting,” Gina hisses as their professor continues to drone on incessantly, “Or instead of discussing how EJ’s a secret softie after class, I’ll just be interrogating every employee at the coffee shop until I figure out which one stole my other best friend from me.”

“Literally, _so_ dramatic,” Red drops his forehead on the top of the seat in front of him and huffs a large sigh. He turns his eyes to look up at Gina, still smiling with her lips around the straw of his medium iced coffee. Red is about to concede, and spill his guts because _she’s dramatic_ but _so is he_ and the little giddy spark he gets every time he mentions Ricky is addicting, but then he notices something on the cup.

The scribbled black writing only appears when Gina takes another sip, the dark coffee obstructing it’s view until the cup is empty enough to read the clear plastic. _Just get to class and drink your medium iced coffee._ Well, _he_ may not have been the one drinking it, but it still served its purpose.

Because with the medium iced coffee halfway empty, Red sees ten little digits, _a phone number,_ written on the clear cup.

“Hello? Red? You still with me?” Gina waves a hand in front of Red’s blank stare, ignoring the lecture happening around them. She follows his line of sight and quirks a brow down at the cup in her hands, and then, “Holy shit!”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Did he—”

“I think so.”

“Red!”

“Gina.”

“ _Dude!_ ” She squeals, which garners the duo a look from the students around them actually trying to pay attention. “Text him! Text him right now!”

“Are you crazy? He doesn’t want me to text him.”

“Yeah, because I just randomly give my number out to guys for no reason, and _don’t_ want them to text me after I do,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m setting aside my offense that you still won’t tell me anything about him because we are literally on the brink of the greatest romance to ever exist.”

“Do you ever get tired of being the most dramatic person alive?”

“No, I leave that to Carlos,” she shakes her head, “If you don’t either tell me _everything_ or text him right now, I will walk into that coffee shop _with Carlos,_ and we’ll figure it out on our own.”

Red thinks about it for a minute, hums his discontent and stifles a laugh at his friend’s pleading eyes, then sits up and sighs, “ _Fine_ , it’s Tuesday night coffee date with Ash, so just, bring _everyone_ there at 8, back booth, because I’m only going over all this shit again once.”

Gina swings her feet excitedly and knocks her toes against Red’s, “I’m gonna meet him?”

“Absolutely not. We’re only going because he’s working now, so I know we’ll be safe later.”

“Maybe I’ll just text him and tell him to join us,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “I do have his number…”

“Shut up,” he punches her shoulder lightly, but can only focus on the swooping feeling in his chest when he types Ricky’s phone number and saves his contact in his phone.

At 8:17 that night, Red’s closest friends have all gathered, squeezed into the small back booth, waiting for coffee and confessions (and Gina, who was 17 minutes late.)

Its dark outside, rain making the night just a little gloomier, but the coffee shop is safe, cozy. Red’s squeezed between the Caswells on one side, Carlos, Seb, and Kourtney giggling about something one of the boys said on the other. He knows they’re all here just to interrogate Red on his not-very-subtle crush, but seeing all his friends together amidst their hectic college schedules makes his heart swell (in a way entirely different from how it feels when he’s thinking about said not-so-subtle crush.)

“I’m glad Red’s love life could gather us all here today,” Carlos beams, elbows leaning forward on the table, “But while we’re here, I’m gonna need romantic updates from _everyone._ ”

“I volunteer EJ to go first!” Seb giggles, kicking his shin under the table.

“Why? I have nothing to report,” he shrugs, feigning innocence.

But Seb just scoffs endearingly, “Oh my god, I _literally_ work at the bowling alley you went on a date at,” and the table erupts into gasps, “I handed you your shoes.”

“You have no proof that was me.”

“We had a whole conversation while you were ordering nachos.”

“Ah, oh my god, sorry I’m so late,” Gina runs up to the back booth of the coffee shop, breathless, her purple umbrella half closed and raindrops pooling underneath it. Saved from any more interrogation, EJ leans back in his seat comfortably while Gina continues, “Traffic was crazy.”

“Traffic? You _walked_ here,” Carlos scoffs, rubbing at the shoulder of his sweater that Gina’s umbrella is dripping onto, “For that shit lie alone, coffee’s on you.”

“Absolutely,” she nods, starting to shove her bag down on the seat next to him. Realizing its already too crowded for that to work, she goes to grab a chair from a table next to them and situating it at the end of the booth, pointing to each member of the group for them to recite orders as she does.

They make it all the way around the table, Carlos, Seb, Kourtney, EJ…

“Ash?” Gina skips over Red to get Ashlyn’s order, and Red just stares at her confused.

“Uh, do I not get anything?” Red asks, eyebrows scrunched.

“Oh no, I just already know what you want,” Gina smirks, her shoulder bouncing in a shrug.

And then the whole table choruses in sync, “ _Medium iced coffee_!”

“Oh my god,” Red drops his head into his elbows on the table and Ashlyn rubs a reassuring hand across his back.

“I’ll have the same please,” she smiles up at Gina before the other girl runs off to grab all their orders.

While Gina is gone ordering, Ashlyn spares her cousin from a second round of questioning by taking the floor to divulge her romantic happenings, which is really just a dramatic overplay of every two-minute conversation she’s had with mystery beer pong girl (whose name we still do not know.)

She gushes for a solid seven minutes, and Red is glad the heat has still remained off him, even if he’d rather not hear the story about how Ashlyn let mystery beer pong girl borrow her laptop charger for like, the seventh time this week. He’s basically got all three lines of dialogue memorized.

Not that he was one to judge.

He had pretty boy barista’s name and number and still wasn’t doing anything about it other than obsess over him in his mind.

Red was still reeling from their conversation this morning, and was glad he could come back to his favorite place tonight free from lovesick distraction, knowing Ricky wouldn’t be here. Keeping up with a crush was more than he had bargained for, truly. He listened on as Ashlyn continued to ramble, but found himself quickly slipping into his own thoughts as he glanced around the shop.

He looked over at the front door, followed the line up to the register, glanced at the the stacks of cups, the whizzing coffee pots and glass display case of pastries, and all the way over to—

“ _Gina Porter_?”

“No way!” The girl is question squeals at her name before launching her upper body over the pick-up counter to wrap her arms around— “ _Ricky Bowen_ , oh my god!” Red watches as she lets go of the hug, that still looked bone crushingly adorable given its awkward positioning, and moves her hands to hold his cheeks. She looks at him, bewildered.

He feels like a broken record at this point because, _what the hell_ , man.

He doesn’t really hear much of their conversation once they’ve stopped excitedly shrieking at each other. Gina’s feet bounce and dance as she talks to him, and Red feels like dying. He knew this was too good to be true, _of course_ Ricky’s into Gina. Look at him. He is smiling so big, so bright, Red would feel like melting if he weren’t so fixated on the fact that 1) Ricky is here when logically, he shouldn’t be and 2) he had a crush on a guy that was clearly crushing not on him, but on his best friend! This breaks all kinds of bro codes, for real, and he’s not sure how he’s going to face the girl once he has to admit _Ricky_ is his pretty boy barista once his round of romantic interrogation starts up.

Red is completely tuned out of Ashlyn’s story at this point, focused only on the adorable way Gina ruffles Ricky’s curls and he lightly punches her shoulder. He seems to offer to help her carry all the drinks back, but she waves him off, running over quickly in two shifts with a newfound giddy enthusiasm. When she heads back to pick up the rest of the drinks, Ricky leans closer to her again, whispers something close to her cheek, and she giggles, deadass _giggles_. Red’s never seen his friend do that. Ever. He slides her the last cup of the order, she wedges it between the two other cups, and all but skips back to the table before promising to ’take him out to lunch’ sometime soon. Red feels like crawling beneath the table.

“Okay that’s everything,” she sighs breathily, before pulling up a chair to the end of the table, both sides of the booth far to crowded to fit her, “So how much did I miss? If you didn’t wait for me to hear about Red’s coffee boy, I swear…”

“I don’t think we can talk about my coffee boy until we talk about _yours_ ,” Red tries to say cheerily, nodding his head towards the counter Gina was just standing, _giggling_ , at.

“Oh my god, _Ricky_?” Gina pitter patters her fingers on the table before sliding the cups around the table to their proper owners, “I mean, not my boy, but damn if he is not he the cutest one out there. No offense.”

“Absolutely _none taken_. I have eyes,” Carlos leans his chin in his hands, “The curse of the white boy is real.”

“You know _Ricky_? Wow, that is just—” Ashlyn starts, laughing, and Red elbows her in the side to shut her up.

“Oh yeah, we were best friends in high school, er, the year I went to high school in Chicago. God, I had no idea he was working here, let alone even went to this school. We tried keeping in touch but you know… we both kept moving around and… old habits, I guess.”

“Best _friends_?”

“Attached at the hip,” she nods proudly, “He taught me how to skate and I taught him how to dance so he could try out for the musical.”

“He _sings_ too? Red, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” EJ smirks and shoves Red beside him.

“Tell him to join us when he gets off his shift!” Carlos claps excitedly, and Red doesn’t think a worse idea could have been pitched, “I say, totally without any outside motivations to cast him in the musical I’m choreographing this semester because we’re short on guys.”

“Credit to your boy, this coffee is amazing,” Kourtney says, sipping on her drink.

“ _Not my boy_ , but I _did_ try to invite him over. He said he’s working overtime tonight because his boss caught him giving away too many free drinks or something.”

Red, if he had even attempted to pick up his drink by now, would have done a glorious spit take.

Ashlyn all but cackles.

“This is just too good.”

“Red, you okay?” Kourtney asks, eyeing the boy worriedly, “You haven’t touched your drink!”

“And we haven’t even gotten to your part of the romantic interrogation tonight!”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Red lies through his teeth and swiftly grabs the remaining cup and hurriedly takes a sip. He almost spit takes again. _Coffee._ “Ah, who took the wrong cup?”

He looks around at his friends, and they all inspect their own cups. Red’s sure there’s been a mistake, as he chews at his bottom lip like it will eliminate the taste of iced coffee he just accidentally drank. But no one budges, they’ve all got the right drinks.

“Seriously,” he tries again, “Gina, did you _actually_ get me an iced coffee?”

“No, I swear, I’m not _that_ cruel,” Gina shakes her head, “Though, Ricky did say there was a mistake with one of the things I ordered, so he swapped one of them while I brought the first few over to you guys, and I just grabbed— wait a second.”

“What?”

“No one has Red’s tea?”

Everyone shakes their heads.

“And Red, you’ve got—”

“A medium iced coffee— _oh my god_.”

“Why do I feel like we’re missing something…” Seb says quietly, pointing between Gina and Red.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“How was I supposed to know the guy I’ve been obsessed with for the last week is your teenage _bestie_?” Red and Gina are screaming at each other from their seats, the table descending into complete and utter chaos when the realization finally dawns on the rest of the group.

“Red, that’s _him?_ ” Carlos looks frantically between the counter and Red.

“Yes, _be quiet_ , he wasn’t supposed to be here,” Red flushes, “He worked this morning.”

“And gave Red a medium iced coffee with _his number_ on it!” Gina adds excitedly, and is met with only squeals of encouragement.

“Okay, pretty white boy is _smooth_!”

“Red is the guy he’s been giving all those free drinks to,” Ashlyn chimes in, “He basically asked him out on a skateboarding date.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh my _god!_ ”

“ _Please_ , when he sings to you on his skateboard with a medium iced coffee, I’m gonna cry.”

“You are all literally _so_ dramatic.”

“We’re gay Red, it’s a requirement.”

“Okay, just,” Red huffs, embarrassed, as his friends continue to chatter around him, “I’m only gonna talk if you all take it down like, three notches. I do not need him hearing about my hopeless pining.”

“It’s not hopeless, its adorable,” Gina says, and EJ and Ashlyn nod in agreement, “As certified teenage bestie, I can vouch.”

Ashlyn starts filling in most of the group on their first meeting and Red drifts out, just for a second, enough time to glance quickly at the order pick-up counter and catch a small shy wave from his favorite barista. Red holds his cup up in a ‘cheers’ and fakes a sip of his least favorite drink. Red pretends not to think too hard about the way that makes Ricky grin.

And just as quickly as he’s zoned out, he’s pulled back in, Carlos tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and demanding he spill everything, except for his coffee that all his friends take shifts stealing sips of when Ricky isn’t looking.

They’re dramatic as hell, but dammit if they aren’t the best friends in the whole universe.

_just served a customer named gray_

_don’t think he appreciated my color jokes like you_

**_gee, I wonder why!_ **

****

_shut up svabhfjnak_

_i think its time for todays color of the day_

**_brb gotta go block your number rq_ **

****

_WAIT_

_TODAYS IS SO GOOD_

**_top ten sentences uttered before disaster_ **

****

_jazzberry jam_

**_shut the fuck up_ **

****

**_dude_ **

****

**_thats not a color_ **

_it is !!!_

_third grade me used it to write my name on every spelling test_

**_third grade you must have been a JOY_ **

****

_i would borrow it from my best friend’s 96-pack of crayons_

**_so ur third grade friends were RICH rich_ **

****

_literally_

_i’m friends for the perks and the perks ONLY_

**_so what i’m hearing is we’re not actually friends_ **

****

**_because I have no obscurely named crayons to offer_ **

****

_bye jazzberry is was fun while it lasted <3_

**_hsbvncdkjkakj ricky_ **

****

**_…_ **

****

**_ricky_ **

****

**_ricky???_ **

**_helloooooo_ **

****

****

****

****

****

**_dude its almost midnight where is my color_ **

****

_knew you actually liked them_

_a win for rickynation!_

**_i tell you to shut up more in one day than I have ever told anyone to shut up in my entire life_ **

****

_u want a color or not homie_

****

**_homie,,,_ **

****

_ur right I hated that_

_BUT ANYWHO_

_color time_

**_hurry up_ **

****

**_11:58_ **

****

_dude_

_stop_

_i’m stressed_

_ok_

_u ready_

**_11:59_ **

****

_SHVBHJHNMJV_

_LAVENDER_

**_LAME_ **

****

_what the fuck_

_i thought you’d like that one_

_you hated purple mountains majesty yesterday_

_so I toned it down_

**_well yeah lavenders a pretty color I guess_ **

****

_pretty color for a pretty boy_

**_SHUT UP_ **

****

_i have never told a lie_

_not a single one_

**_lavender is too mainstream_ **

****

**_u gotta find the balance between crazy ass granny smith apple and basic yellow green_ **

****

_hey I like yellow green_

**_bc ur lame_ **

****

_i call u pretty and u call me lame_

_its fine_

_i don’t care_

**_ok cool bc I stand by it_ **

****

_no wait i care_

_i care so bad_

_don’t fall asleep until you fix it_

_red_

**_its unsettling when you use the right color_ **

****

_i could call you lavender again_

**_goodniiiiiiight_ **

****

_< /3_

**_hey rick its red_ **

****

**_lol duh_ **

****

**_you’ve had my number for weeks_ **

****

**_anyway_ **

****

**_um_ **

**_just ran out of the coffee shop had to get to class and you looked super busy so I didn’t wanna stop you but_ **

****

**_you looked pretty_ **

**_that’s it_ **

****

**_thought you’d wanna know_ **

****

**_text me when u get off work ginas mom is in town and taking us to dinner so yk freee fooooood_ **

****

**_:)_ **

****

****

****

****

_hey_

_hey hey_

_heyyyyyy_

_timberwolf_

**_the look I just got from carlos when he saw that message_ **

****

_new color_

_do u like it_

**_i wanna say yes but I feel like i cannot on the principle_ **

****

_i know u love my colors_

_i’ll give u a bonus one today just for that_

_tickle me pink_

**_this is not an excuse for you to tickle me when you come over to clean up our table later_ **

****

**_also get off ur phone_ **

****

**_not letting you get fired_ **

****

_but this is important!_

**_not as important as your paychecks dude_ **

****

**_you promised to take me to see the new star wars movie this weekend_ **

****

**_those tickets aint cheap!_ **

****

_fine_

_but know i hate this_

_bye timberwolf <3_

_hey come to the shop_

_i miss u_

**_already on my way_ **

**_seb suggested mahogany how we feelin_ **

_i love this guy_

_welcome to the team_

**_wait now carlos wants in_ **

****

**_bhvbjkmhhv_ **

****

**_TUMBLEWEED_ **

****

_I LOVE THEM WOW_ __

_STOP KEEPING YOUR FRIENDS FROM ME FOR REAL_

**_i don’t wanna share u_ **

_brb gonna go cry into some bitches frap_

**_i hate u_ **

****

_you don’t wanna share me <3_

**_on god i’m not coming to the shop tonight if you keep this up latte boy_ **

****

_you get a burnt siena for that_

_for the attiTUDE_

**_hey r u working tonight_ **

****

_yup_

_keep me company i am So Lonely_

_we’ve had three customers total the whole shift_

_and my two coworkers are hooking up in the break room_

**_HETS_ **

****

_A DISEASE_

**_okay i’m coming_ **

****

**_i’ve got something for u_ **

****

_awww_

_electric lime <3_

**_i take it back bye_ **

_just got back to my room and started crying again_

_just thinking about how_

_you are_

_the cutest human being_

_on this entire PLANET_

**_shut up_ **

_my 96-count crayola crayons are very happy_

_lookin cute in the corner of my lil desk_

_my roommate thinks i’m insane help_

**_are you ACTUALLY crying_ **

****

_…_

**_RICKYYYYYY_ **

****

_i’m emotional this is the cutest fucking thing i’ve ever received_

**_its crayons dude_ **

****

_but like,,,_

_colors are our ~thing~_

_can’t believe you bought me a whole 96-count pack of crayons like youre RICH rich or something_

_and came to the coffee shop to deliver them to me personally_

_fuck it i’m crying again_

_my roommates about to LEAVE_

**_dude its no big deal really_ **

****

**_i just needed to secure this friendship_ **

****

**_ur in it for the crayons i remembered_ **

_i’m literally_

_crying_

**_so you’ve said_ **

****

_i’m gonna write you a little note on a post it with a new color every day_

**_i regret this already_ **

****

_gonna write tomorrows before I fall asleep to the sound of my own tears_

**_RICKY STOP CRYING_ **

****

_I CANT CONTROL IT_

**_i did not think my friends could get any more dramatic but holy shit_ **

****

**_you really something special huh_ **

****

_shut up_

_actually don’t,,,_

_call me and explain this to my roommate so he leaves me and my tears alone_

**_lame excuse to get me to call you_ **

****

**_when i literally saw you a half hour ago_ **

****

**_but fine_ **

****

_< 333333_

“I’m going to murder my history professor.”

“Good afternoon Ashlyn, _I’m great_ , thanks for asking, how was your day, my dear, bestest friend?”

“Shut up,” Ashlyn rolls her eyes as she slides into the booth, late one Tuesday afternoon to their standing coffee date. Red passes her the medium iced coffee and enjoys his tea before Ricky gets to work, keeping his secret safe, “Can I elaborate or are you gonna stay snarky?”

“No continue, please, I’m intrigued,” Red smirks and shuts his laptop, pausing work for now.

“He’s assigning a group project, doesn’t let us pick our partners, which okay, fine, normal, but _right_ before he said it, mystery beer pong girl leaned over and asked to be _my_ partner.”

“Was her name on the paper gonna be Mystery Beer Pong Girl still, or…”

“We don’t like, have full conversations or anything, so it’s hard to get her name now,” Ashlyn grumbles as she swirls her cup around on the surface of the table, annoyed, “But this project was my chance! I was about to get her name, her number, and ample amounts of quality study time _alone with her_.”

“Murdering the professor is the only option.”

“I’m glad you agree, know any good places to hide the body?”

“Yeah, tons.”

“Awesome,” his friend sighs and takes a vengeful sip of iced coffee, “So that’s been my shit day. And when he finally did announce partners, turns out he did it alphabetically, so I’m working with EJ.”

“No!”

“Like I said, tell me where I can hide the body.”

“I will be here to listen to you vent every step of the way,” Red laughs while Ashlyn sulks, pulling out her notebooks to start on some work, “Will your history project partner be joining us today?”

“No, another mystery date,” she rolls her eyes, “ _Gina_ won’t even spill the details. And I know she knows everything.”

“I don’t know Ricky said—”

“How _is_ lover boy?” Ashlyn leans forward in her seat, eyes sparkling, “How many new ways to flirt has he tried that you’re gonna deny today?”

“He’s not flirting,” Red blushes, embarrassed, “We’re friends.”

“Friends or like, _friends_?”

“There’s a difference?”

“You are hopeless,” she sighs, dropping her pencil on the table, “There’s a clear difference. You and I are friends. Seb and Carlos last year before we caught them making out at EJ’s party, _friends_.”

“Oh, what, no, oh my god Ricky and I aren’t…” Red stumbles over his own words, shaking at the thought. _Friends?_ “Are we really that bad?”

Ashlyn nods emphatically.

“I don’t see it.”

“You’re being ridiculous, the guy is clearly into you,” Ashlyn says, “He calls you pretty every other day.”

“He told Gina she looked nice yesterday when we got lunch.”

“Nice is not pretty.”

“They’re synonyms,” Red stands his ground, because no, he’d much rather be safe and friend-zoned than get his hopes up like this. They’re friends. Not… _friends._

“I am so tired of having this argument.”

“You started it!” Red yells like a child, takes another calming sip of his tea, “I have like, a shit ton of sociology reading to do so, if you have nothing else to add about my non-existent relationship with Ricky…”

Ashlyn throws her hands up in surrender and gets back to scribbling away in her notebook.

The night passes calmly, uneventful. Having Ashlyn across from him in their back corner booth is a reassuring and warm presence that makes even the most awful hell weeks of the college experience feel just a little bit brighter. They chat occasionally between chapters or problem sets, Ashlyn refills her medium iced coffee and tries to taunt Red with it again, he polishes off his tea and disposes of the cup before Ricky walks in for his late-night shift.

Red wasn’t kidding about the shit ton of reading he had to do. After a hysterical conversation with Ashlyn about the photo album her mom found from when they did their middle school musical together, Red buckles down to finish the last three chapters of reading that are due tomorrow. Only, he doesn’t notice that he starts to slowly nod off, his head falling onto his elbow. Ashlyn bids him goodbye to go do facemasks and _The Bachelor_ with Kourtney because the show just started back up again on Tuesday nights and he’s half asleep but still coherent enough to mumble a goodbye, and the seat is _just so cozy_ and he’s full and warm and content, and soon enough his eyes are shut and…

…

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

Red rolls his head to one side and rubs at his eyes, slowly opening and adjusting to the overhead lights. He blinks once, twice, and—

“Ricky?”

“Hey, how’d you sleep? Didn’t think our wood tables were any comfortable,” the curly haired boy shoots Red that heart-stopping grin, his hair a little lopsided and his fingers tapping as he plays with his white washcloth opposite Red in the booth, “I didn’t wanna wake you but, I’m the last one here and now I’m all cleaned up so…”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Red shakes his head, running a hand through his short hair, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax, dude, it’s okay, you got like, 4 hours of sleep last night studying for your exam,” which is true, and it makes Red’s stomach leap at the thought of Ricky remembering that detail. “Plus, I enjoyed the company.”

“I’m sure I was so much fun, sitting here, _drooling_ ,” Red quips sarcastically, sitting up and starting to collect his things. “It’s just you?”

“And _you_ ,” Ricky smiles, and Red, in the past month and a half he’s known this boy, has not gotten any better at handling what that smile does to him. He’s so lucky Ricky can’t see him blush like crazy when they text. He looks back up at the barista as he continues, “Hey, you want your color for the day?”

“Oh my god, give it up already!”

“Never!” Ricky yells, head tilted adorably with his ear to his shoulder, “You’re gonna like this one: macaroni and cheese.”

“That’s not a color!”

“Yeah it is! It’s in my box!” Ricky hums, scrunching his nose.

“Yeah, but like, there’s so many different types of mac and cheese, how did they decide on just _one_ color top represent it?”

“Oh my god.”

“Like, Kraft is a completely different shade than Velveeta. Or what about white cheddar mac and cheese?”

“You’ve really put a lot of thought into this, huh?”

“Someone has to,” Red starts to banter back, but feels every thought slip his mind when one of Ricky’s ankles wraps around his under the table. The coffee shop is empty and quiet, save Ricky’s soft laughs, and Red is now hyper-aware of the way he has been so casually roped into a game of footsies. With his heart beating rapidly, he continues, “I just don’t think it works as a color.”

“Well, fine. I’ll get you tomorrow,” Ricky smiles, “Would you like a coffee for the road? My treat.”

“Ah, nah, that’s okay, don’t need the caffeine when I should be sleeping,” Red nods quickly, gathering his things into his backpack, his toes tapping against Ricky’s, “I’ll help you lock up, then I’m running home to sleep for the next like, 12 hours.”

“Okay,” Ricky almost giggles before standing up, “You live in East campus, right?”

“Mhm,” Red hums, slipping out of his seat and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

“Cool, same, I’ll walk you home.”

Red’s internal monologue does an internal keyboard smash.

He tries to school his features into something cool, calm and collected so he can protest, but he doesn’t really want to. Spending time with Ricky the past few weeks has been nothing short of incredible. It makes his heart jump, leap, skip, and dive headfirst off the world’s tallest cliff, and it _feels so good_. Having a crush is objectively the worst, but this feels nice. So nice. Which is how Red has been justifying to everyone who bothers him about it that it surely and definitely cannot be a crush. No way. Not even a little bit. And most definitely not a mutual one.

“You sure?”

“Yeah man, if only to bother you with more colors on the way,” Ricky winks, honest to god winks, and Red starts preparing his final will and testament right then and there.

Ricky tosses his washcloth he’d been using to wipe down the counters and the tables into the back room and hangs up his apron while Red busies himself pushing in all the chairs and straightening out the little stacks of pink sugar packets. Once the machines are powered down and the registers are locked, Ricky holds the door open for Red and leads him outside.

The night air is comfortable, a little windy, and Red uses that as his excuse for walking just a little closer to Ricky, their shoulders bumping very so often. Ricky’s presence is comforting in a way Red was never prepared for, his heart always jittery and fluttering at the mere mention of the taller boy’s name so often. But this is nice. It feels like a fall night and they fall into easy conversation for most of the walk. If only flustered Red from that first day could see him now.

“You know, you mentioned your ghost hunter roommate once and never again,” Red says a few minutes into their walk, “Which is pretty disappointing.”

“He transferred after one semester,” Ricky laughs, “I’ve been on a constantly changing loop of roommates since I got here.”

“That cannot be enjoyable,” Red says, knowing how lucky he’d gotten snagging Carlos as his roommate since his very first semester.

“Keeps it interesting I guess,” he shrugs half-heartedly, “I moved around a lot when I was younger so, non-committal relationships are a thing you get kinda used to.” He winces a little as he says it, his eyes darting around, never focusing on anything for too long, uncomfortably.

“Why’d you move so much? Red asks tenderly, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Ricky shakes his head as if to say it’s okay, then starts quietly, “My parents got divorced when I was pretty young, and I know you’re not supposed to pick favorites, or whatever, but my dad and I were really close. He had trouble with work, which is why I got sent to Chicago with my mom for a year or two. I liked bouncing around random states with my dad _way_ more than being in that tiny apartment with my mom and her boyfriend.”

“I’m so sorry, Ricky,” Red suddenly doesn’t know where to look, what to do with his hands, how to feel.

Ricky smiles down at him, genuinely, “It’s okay. I met Gina and she is arguably my better half so, I wouldn’t change it.” It makes Red chuckle lightly, “In a weird way, I guess, I have you to thank for helping me find her again.”

“Uh, what, I—” Did he know? He knew Red had gathered all his friends in the coffee shop to talk to about his life-consuming crush on him?

“Yeah, Gina said you guys met up there for a group project,” Ricky explains, and bless her beautiful little heart. What a smart lie. Red owed her more than he could keep track of at this point.

“Right,” Red sighs shakily, “I’m still sorry about everything though. It’s a sucky situation to be forced into as a kid.”

“All good,” Ricky smiles again, and Red has such an urge to wrap his tall lanky body into a bone-crushing hug, “Speaking of, my dad wants to meet you.”

“Me?” Red points a finger to his chest dumbly.

“Yeah, I’ve been uh, I guess, talking about you a lot,” Ricky scratches behind his neck, nervously, “I call him every day. He’s helped me with a few colors.”

“Oh god, was he behind the ‘asparagus’ one?” Red attempts a joke, but the only thought racing through his mind is that Ricky Bowen talks to his dad about him. What parallels universe has he entered?

“Nah, his definition of creative is ‘violet’ instead of ‘purple’.”

“So, I still have you to blame for asparagus.”

“Hey, that was a good one!” Ricky leans towards Red and bumps their shoulders together, “You know, I looked up more colors on Crayola’s website, they have one called ‘banana mania’ in their 120-pack.”

“Whoever comes up with these names needs to be fired.”

“They’re gonna hire me one day, just you wait,” Ricky boasts proudly.

“Please, you commit a fireable offense at least three times a shift at _this_ job,” Red laughs, “I spend more time texting you to stop texting me…”

“You’re impossible to ignore!”

“I should figure out how to put parental locks on your messages or something, so you stay away from texting me during work hours.”

“If you hate texting me that much, just say it to my face, dude!”

“I don’t hate texting you,” Red blushes, because it’s quite the opposite actually, “It’s just, someone’s gotta pay for our ice cream on the way home from the skatepark, so, this job of yours is important.”

“Right, only in it for the perks.”

“That’s your thing, Mr. 96-count pack of crayons.”

“Shut up,” Ricky nudges Red again, sending jolts of electricity through Red’s shoulder with every point of contact. Their hands are so close, and it would be so ridiculously easy for Red to just grab his, right now. Red’s building is almost in sight, and Red knows if he doesn’t work up the courage to hold his hand right now, the opportunity will not present itself again for a while.

With every bit of conviction he can muster up inside him, Red slowly stretches out a finger, his pinky inching towards Ricky’s, the pad of his finger just ghosting over his, almost toughing.

“We should walk home together more often,” Red suggests, feeling a little bold, hand within reach, “I mean, our dorms being this close, you know, it’s just, _convenient_.”

“And here I was thinking you enjoyed my company,” Ricky places a hand to his chest, flinging hurt, and smiles.

“You’re _absolutely unbearable_ , Ricky Bowen. It’s time you got that through that pretty little head of yours.”

“So what I’m hearing is I have a pretty head…”

“Oh my god, do you just pick and choose what to hear at all times?” Red laughs, exasperatedly.

“Basically,” he shrugs, “But I always tell the truth.”

“Hmm, okay,” Red nods.

“Yup, like right now, the truth is I really—”

Ricky’s phone vibrates in his back pocket and he pulls his hand away to grab it.

Red catches a glance at the photo and contact name on the screen and it splits his heart in half. He _knew_ this was too good to be true. _Friends_.

Ricky apologizes softly to Red, saying _he has to take this real quick_ , before tucking his chin to the side and mumbling into the phone.

Red decides to quit while he’s ahead and waves, his dorm in sight, and yells to Ricky that he’ll see him around before taking off and pushing the door into his hotel lobby.

Feeling: blue. Any shade.

“Red, how many times have you given me shit for being the most dramatic person you know?”

“At least twice a day.”

“So you should understand very clearly when I tell you, you are being _the most_ dramatic person I know right now,” Gina sighs back in her seat at the back corner booth at the coffee shop, a few days since… _the walk home_.

Red has the image on Ricky’s phone burned into his mind. He’s been avoiding him for two whole days because of it. Very nice friendly boy with a girlfriend. Friendly. Not flirting. He’s sure of it.

Gina, Carlos and Seb are currently trying to convince him otherwise. It’s not really working.

“You know nothing for certain,” Seb runs a reassuring hand across Red’s tensed fist laying on the table, “It’s just a girl.”

“A girl with like, _a billion_ hearts next to her contact name,” Red sighs, thinking about the phone call from someone who apparently deserves every emoji heart in the book next to her name, _Nini_.

“I’m telling you, Red, she’s like his childhood best friend, known each other since diapers, practically family,” Gina says, “If he was into her, I’d know.”

“I have never put a picture of a girl kissing my cheek as my wallpaper, with said girl’s contact name being an explosion of lovely-dovey emojis, and have a completely platonic explanation for it!”

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Carlos offers that very helpful point, “ _Just ask him_. If you guys are _best bros_ like you say you are, there’s nothing weird about having a conversation about that.”

And well, maybe that last part is a pretty helpful point.

Seb and Gina nod enthusiastically, nursing their hot coffees and avoiding the schoolwork laid out in front of them, “I’d rather be in denial.”

“ _We_ would not rather that,” Carlos shakes his head, “I am not dealing with your moping about this any longer. The boy has been hitting on you for weeks and the only one getting in the way of him planting a wet one on you at any moment is literally _you_.”

“I hate gays.”

“We’re literally all gay, Gi.”

“Still hate ‘em, they’re _oblivious!_ ”

“I’m not being oblivious, I’m being realistic,” Red sighs, “It’s just not adding up. I’m feel like I’m going in circles having this same conversation over and over again, just to end up in the same spot every time.”

“The same _wrong_ spot!”

Red wasn’t an idiot. Though his friends would contest that point, Red knows this whole dance. Falling in love with straight guys is kinda his specialty, and he’s not letting himself get sucked in again. Or at least, any more than he already is. He knows what he saw, he knows Ricky dropped everything to answer a phone call from a girl with seventeen pink hearts next to her name right when he was about to deliver another one of his killer smooth one-liners that made Red wanna get down on one knee right then and there.

So he wasn’t gonna risk it. Nope. Not one bit.

“There’s only one solution to this,” Carlos starts, hands gripping the edge of the table seriously.

“Have a mature and open conversation with Ricky.”

“Move to Canada.”

“Date Nini myself.”

“God, no, what?” Carlos gawks at the array of answers from the other three at the table, “ _Seb_?”

“She’s cute,” his boyfriend shrugs, “If I had to pick a girl.”

“So what I’m hearing is ‘move to Canada’ is still on the table,” Red nods at his own suggestion, met with grumbles around him.

“I was just gonna say we need to get you drunk but I think I like Gina’s idea better.”

“Boo, we hate maturity and reasonable solutions!” Red cheers with mock disgust. Gina throws a napkin at his face.

“I am on board to get wasted,” Gina points, “ _After_ the mature and open conversation.”

“Oh this sounds serious, about what?”

All four heads snap up at the sound of a new, fifth voice.

Red’s one-track mind has a problem with manifesting.

_Ricky Ricky Ricky._

“Just the man we were looking for,” Gina squeezes Ricky’s wrist, standing next to the end of their table with his towel, and smiles, “We’re on a mission to get Red drunk. Opinions? Options? Potential moves?”

“What’s the timeline for this, is it like an immediate thing? Because I think my boss keeps a handle in the back room that we’re not supposed to know about…” Curse Red’s dumb gay heart. It flutters. Ricky is so adorable. _Ricky Ricky Ricky._

“I feel like we should be concerned,” Carlos questions, warily, “But not that soon, like, weekend would be fine.”

“I actually do have something for the weekend,” Ricky boasts proudly, “I have a friend of a friend throwing a party at his house this Friday. A block off campus.”

“So that would make us friends of a friend of a friend… of a friend?” Seb tries to reason, the gears in his head turning almost visibly.

“Yeah, well, I’m supplying speakers and an extra table, so, they said I could bring whoever I want.”

And well. Are we just gonna ignore the way Ricky is looking _directly_ at Red and _only Red_ when he says that?

“Seriously?” Gina laughs, “Damn, that was easier than I thought.”

“Seriously,” Ricky swings his white towel nervously, “Bring the whole gang. Red won’t share you guys with me so, guess I gotta do it myself.”

“Red!”

Red sinks into his seat with the accusations.

“Do we get to meet _your_ friends?” Gina says excitedly.

“Ah, well, don’t have many of those,” he hums, laughing awkwardly, “Except uh, actually, Gina, I might have mentioned my friend Nini before? She’ll be there.”

“Yes, I _do_ remember,” Gina replies, pointedly looking over at Red as she does, “She seems great.”

“She’s awesome,” Ricky beams, before looking back at Red, fidgeting with the hem of his uniform apron, “On a totally and completely unrelated note, uh Red, could you maybe, uh, ask your friend Ashlyn if she wants to come on Friday?”

“Uh yeah, sure?” Red nods, confused.

“ _Awesome_ ,” he smiles just a little brighter, “Well, I should probably clear some of your cups or something, so it looks like I’m actually doing my job, or whatever.”

He grabs Carlos and Seb’s empty cups, promising Gina to text her the details about the party and assuring her they will definitely be able to get Red drunk, for whatever reason they have, and he laughs again as he hurries away.

Red worries about Nini for the rest of the night that they sit in the booth and talk, even when his friends’ arguments start to sound more plausible, but finds her presence surprisingly easy to ignore when Ricky is sending him the most adorable text messages about the difference between atomic and vivid tangerine in his 96-count pack of crayons.

Fleeing to Canada sounds better and better by the minute.

Red has never been opposed to a good party. They’re fun. Loud music and colored lights, his friends are absolutely _hysterical_ when they’re drunk, when they play the right music and they’re all huddled up, jumping, dancing. College parties, the right ones, are fun, he’s not going to deny it, sweaty and pointless as they may be. Red likes to go out.

Which is why no one believes him when he says he’d rather stay in that Friday night.

Nothing about walking into the party that Ricky’s friend of a friend of a friend or whatever is throwing sounds appealing to Red, especially since he’s been avoiding the curly-haired boy like the plague for a week. _Distance_ is his friend.

Despite his incessant protesting, he’s somehow found himself in a wrinkled button down shirt and jeans, pre-gamed a good three shots in Ashlyn’s room (who he is bringing, because ignoring or not, Red has standards and doesn’t break a promise), and walking with Gina on his arm, sloppily singing a song with Carlos in front of them as they approach the house party.

It’s fine. If he had to go to this thing, Red decided he’d either get drunk enough to not care or make the vision of Ricky and Nini making out in a corner that he swore he’d inevitably see blurry enough to not recognize them. Drunk. Drunk was the way to go!

He’s not really drunk at all when they walk in, or at least, not drunk enough for it to be fun yet, but he thinks it might start to be when he grabs a cup of something with Seb and Carlos and laughs hysterically at something Gina whispers to him that he barely even understands. The music is good, the lights are changing into bright, pretty colors, and his friends, talented theater kids that they are, are dancing very funny in the hallway outside the kitchen.

“Is that strong enough?” Ashlyn yells over the music, pointing to Red’s cup.

“Probably not, but its fine,” Red shrugs taking a small sip, “It’s really early.”

“We should find Ricky!”

“ _Definitely_ _not_ strong enough for that,” Red swirls the drink around in his cup.

“C’mon, he’s probably looking for _youuuuu_ , wants to see how _pretty_ you look,” Ashlyn sing-songs again. Kourtney and Gina push past them, giggling, and say they’re going to find the bathroom. Apparently, _their_ drinks are strong enough.

“Ashlyn…”

“Oh my god, what if he’s actually into _me_?” Ashlyn points a finger to her chest and smiles lopsidedly, “He asked me to come specifically.”

They lock eyes for a minute and are quiet, before bursting out into contagious laughter.

“You’re gonna break his heart, Caswell,” Red says through laughter, and suddenly the room doesn’t feel so stifling. He’s really got good friends.

“Oh my god, do you think they’re playing pong?”

“Why don’t you just talk to her in class!”

“Because in class I have a filter,” she chuckles, “Right now I have _none_.”

“And that’s a good thing because…?”

“C’mon, we’ll take one lap around the house, and if I don’t see her, I won’t mention her again for a week,” Ashlyn says emphatically, grabbing one of Red’s wrists, and starting them down the hallway, “And we’ll take two more shots.”

“You know I hate taking shots,” Red complains, because sure, he likes being drunk at parties, but he hates the process of getting there.

“Then you better hope we find her!”

Red laughs at his friend and nods along with the music that seems to switch as they move into a room in the back, and Red acutely wonders which set of speakers are Ricky’s. _Ricky Ricky Ricky_. Its a problem, really, how he cannot seem to escape him.

“Ah, found the game of pong, moment of truth here, Red!” Ashlyn squeals and drags them to the back corner of the dark and relatively empty room. Red guesses most people get stuck in the front of the house by the louder music and the drinks. Red would probably prefer this back, quieter room, _any other night_ , if not for—

“Oh my god, please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, Ash,” Red says as they stand, the duo, huddled to the side staring at a pair of the beer pong players.

It’s Ricky, of course, because Red just runs _Ricky Ricky Ricky_ through his mind and manifests him every time. His partner is crouched down, looking for the little ping pong ball that must have fallen on the floor.

“We can leave, it’s fine,” Ashlyn says, concerned, but Red’s a little tipsy and he doesn’t want to ruin this night for his best friend, especially with how supportive she’s been the past two months.

“It’s fine, lets take a lap around the room, look for—”

“Mystery beer pong girl!”

“Nini?”

Red and Ashlyn both look at each other rapidly after seeing Ricky’s beer pong partner pop up, having triumphantly found the ball and resumed the game.

“You found her?” Red starts, asking Ashlyn.

“Yeah, she’s playing _pong,_ looking just as beautiful as I remember her,” Ashlyn gushes, dreamily.

Red looks over at the table in the corner, craning up on his toes to get a better look. The pair on the left is two guys Red doesn’t recognize, and the team on the right is just Ricky and—

“No way.”

“What?”

“There is absolutely _no way in hell_ that your mystery beer pong girl is _Nini Salazar-Roberts_ , my crush’s girlfriend!”

Ashlyn turns and look up at Red, jaw dropped, before laughing hysterically.

“No fucking way!”

“ _Yes_ fucking way!”

“No, I mean: _no fucking way_ she’s his girlfriend, you idiot,” Ashlyn slaps Red on the shoulder, “She’s never mentioned a boyfriend.”

“Your longest conversation has lasted two minutes!”

“ _Not for long_ ,” Ashlyn says, a twinkle in her eyes, before grabbing Red’s hand again and pulling them swiftly across the room, against Red’s loud and pleading protests.

“Ashlyn, no way, what are you doing—”

“Hey, can we have next game?”

Ricky and Nini both look up at them when Ashlyn approaches and asks her question, and the smiles that erupt on their faces within milliseconds is criminal. Red’s heart does a _thing_.

“Red, dude, oh my god, you’re here!” Ricky bounces on his feet excitedly, glancing between the two redheads, “And… you brought _Ashlyn_ …” He draws out her name and elbows Nini while he does it and…

Oh. _Oh._

“Hey, uh, Ashlyn,” Nini says shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Glad I could see you outside history class.”

Red feels as hot and flushed as his name. _Nini_ is Ashlyn’s mystery beer pong girl, and is very obviously interested in _her_ and not—

“Ricky and I just won,” Nini says, smiling, “You guys up for a game? Loser owes winner hangover coffee tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna end up making _and paying for_ the coffee either way, I cannot win this!” Ricky laughs, eyeing his friend.

She just shoves a hand in his face, “Don’t listen to him— he hates fun, let’s go!”

“Red, _dude_ , back me up!”

“Isn’t he the guy that calls you lame like, twice a day?” Nini yells, and its Ricky’s turn to shut her up with a shove. She just laughs and winks at Red as he and Ashlyn set up on the other side of the table, “I know he’s with me on this one.”

Red just shrugs and salutes his cup towards Nini, downing the last sip before placing it, empty, on the table next to him. He shakes the buzz off that he feels throughout his body, and wonders when his very weak drink started to feel so strong.

Ricky smiles directly at him when he throws his first shot, and Red thinks that might have something to do with it.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me you were a pong _legend_?”

“Seriously Red, have mercy on us!” Nini giggles as she tosses her ping pong ball, and misses again. She and Ricky have six cups left. Ashlyn and Red have just one.

“No, Neens, you gotta call him a different color,” Ricky says, bouncing on his toes adorably.

“Not this stupid thing again,” she rolls her eyes, and looks over at Red while he tosses the ball between his hands, waiting for his turn to throw, “Red, now that we’re best friends, I promise to never call you dumb Crayola names.”

“Sorry, Rick, you’ve officially been replaced,” Red smirks, and throws, missing their lone cup.

“Nini sucks at making coffee, just so you know, before you make any decisions,” Ricky points, bending to pick up the ball that was bouncing on the floor beneath him, “Ashlyn, I hope you’re not as attached to medium iced coffees as Red is.”

Ashlyn tries to stifle her laugh with a hand, launching her ping pong ball lazily with the other as Red elbows her side, “Not a deal-breaker for me, don’t worry.”

“Cool,” Nini blushes, tossing her ball and watching it land in a cup. She jumps triumphantly, high-fiving Ricky with a loud cheer, “Comeback time, baby!”

“They’re still beating us by four.”

“Shh,” she hums, hands him the second ball, “I’ve got a coffee date riding on this, Bowen, don’t screw it up for me.”

“Date?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you—”

“Ah! Got it!” Ricky jumps, stretches his arms across the table with a grabby motion towards Red, “Balls back!”

Red rolls the two pong balls across the table and Ricky grabs them excitedly. Ashlyn and Nini seem pretty lost in thought, daydreaming about a _coffee_ _date,_ the girls leaving their sides of the table and meeting somewhere in the middle to talk, closer to each other without yelling.

“Do we actually have to finish this?” Ricky hums, a smirk that reaches his eyes.

“Someone’s afraid to _lose_ , I think…”

“Woah, okay, is there a color for overconfident?”

“I think there’s probably a color for loser,” Red teases.

“Yeah, it’s _red._ ”

“Okay hotshot, let’s see what you got,” Red says, as Ricky picks up the discarded ping pong balls and takes two _very poor_ shots, missing both times with a wince. Nini didn’t drink beer, so Ricky’s been downing every cup, and the alcohol was probably starting to get to him. His cheeks were flushed and smiling.

“You’re catching me at a bad time!”

“Excuses, excuses, Ricky,” Red catches the balls one at a time and moves to throw them back, “Watch me finish this.”

“Okay,” Ricky steps aside, eyeing Red thoughtfully, a smirk playing at his lips.

Red gets the last cup on his second shot and throws his hands up in victory.

“What was that about _losing_ , Bowen?”

“You know, I did that on purpose,” Ricky says, picking up the last cup before crossing to the other side of the table.

“Oh really?” Red quirks his eyebrows up, stepping away from the table to let a new set of people play, both their respective teams clearly uninterested in the game anymore.

“Yeah, I just,” Ricky clears his throat, the last cup of beer still in his hand, “Just _wanted_ to lose, actually.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he hums, swirling the drink around in his cup, but his eyes fixed only on Red’s, “Very hard to talk to you with a table between us.”

“At least we lasted longer than Ashlyn and Nini,” Red says, rocking up on his toes so his voice reaches Ricky better over the loud music (and totally not just to be closer to him, nope, not at all that.)

“Nini’s been talking about her since some random frat party last year,” he chuckles lightly, “When I put the pieces together and realized she was your friend you always come to the coffee shop with, Nini wouldn’t leave me alone until I asked you about her.”

His breath smells like beer, so close to Red’s face, and it’s not the alcohol that makes the feeling intoxicating. Ricky is pretty drunk, drunker than Red who split beer duty with Ashlyn, and he grabs one of Red’s elbows to steady himself. Red is not complaining.

“Glad we could set this up,” Red jokes, inching into Ricky’s grip, “Even if you guys owe us coffee now.”

“I give you free coffee like, every other day, dude,” Ricky laughs, and it should be illegal, really. Red is sure his heartbeat can be heard over whatever dumb music is playing. He can’t hear it. Nothing exists in this small dark room except _Ricky Ricky Ricky_.

“I missed you,” Ricky adds, looking at Red sincerely, “I don’t know why you haven’t been talking to me lately but I _really_ miss you.”

Red feels guilty. He had assumed Ricky wouldn’t have even noticed. He’s convinced himself Ricky was so out-of-his league, that a few less texts from a random coffee shop customer wouldn’t bother him much. But Ricky’s eyes are so close, so vulnerable, that Red would take back every dumb conversation he had talked himself into, avoiding his feelings at all costs.

Because _this_ feeling, this one right here, would be worth it all.

“Sorry just, _busy_ ,” Red lies terribly, “And sick of your color names.”

“I’ll never call you another color again if you promise to never _leave me_ again,” Ricky says, mumbling a few of the words, his toes tapping on the top of Red’s, “I missed you.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You’re so cute, it’s so hard to miss you.”

“Okay, maybe we should get you some water.”

“No, no, that’s okay, I’ve got some here,” Ricky picks the cup up that he’s holding between them and starts to bring it to his lips.

“That’s not water, Ricky,” Red sighs, endeared, even drunk Ricky is the cutest person alive, Red is sure of it, “Here, let me—”

And he goes to take the cup away from Ricky right as Ricky starts to drink it, and the action tips the cup the wrong way, within seconds, and it spills right down the front of Red’s shirt.

“Shit, I am so sorry!” Ricky’s eyes grow wide and he steps back, the jarring action sobering him for a spilt second, and he looks like he feels _awful_.

Red just looks down at his stained and wet shirt, at the empty red solo cup on the floor, back up at Ricky, and starts _laughing_. Genuinely. He laughs because _what the hell_ , man. This was his life. A cute boy just spilled gross beer on him and he isn’t even bothered. Not in the slightest.

“See, dude, told you it _wasn’t_ water,” Red says through his laugher, and it finally reaches Ricky, the two boys laughing in their own little bubble.

“C’mon, let me at least help you clean it up some,” Ricky says simply, and Red’s not really thinking about anything at all when suddenly, he feels someone lace their fingers through his and _wow_. There was no drink in the kitchen stronger than this feeling.

Ricky pushes through crowds of people, mumbling incoherent apologies and giggling back at Red every time he does, leading them up a narrow staircase and towards the first bathroom he can find. There’s one open at the end of the hallway, a very small one, but Ricky pushes Red in in front of him anyway and shuts the door with a thud.

The walls dull the loud drumming bass of the music, and the tinted yellow glow of the light is jarring after being in the dark for so long. But the worst part is how close he is to Ricky all of a sudden and how aware of that fact he has readily become.

Ricky’s a giggly drunk, Red’s established, and the boy keeps a steady stream of giggles coming as he twists to turn in the faucet, pushing Red lightly to the side and telling him to grab a towel.

“I don’t think we should be using this person’s nice towels to be cleaning up a beer stain on my shirt,” Red says warily.

“Dude, it’s a house of like 7 dudes,” Ricky giggles, his hands wringing under the sink water, “They don’t _own_ nice towels.”

He has a point, Red decides, and grabs a small towel that’s resting on top of the toilet. He tosses it to Ricky, who makes one side damp before turning back to face Red, _still giggling_.

“C’mere,” he curls one finger, gesturing for Red to come closer.

Red gulps loudly and takes a step forward.

“You ever done this before?”

“Nope,” Ricky says, with a pronounced pop of the ‘p’. He’s being so cute, his nose scrunching as he bends his shoulders down to try to wipe at the beer that’s dripped down the front of Red’s shirt.

Unfortunately, Red’s small strain of sanity can only focus on Ricky’s chest, so close to his, his black t-shirt _very tight_ and abs _very visible_. He tries to keep his breath in check by disguising his panic with more easy laughter, “How about instead of coffee you buy me a new shirt?”

“Hehe, okie dokie,” he twists his lips to one side in a puckered pout, and Red’s sure people are not allowed to be so simultaneously cute and hot as hell. It’s ridiculous. And its messing up Red’s brain way more than beer ever could.

Beer has done a number on Ricky though, he’s assuming, because he’s getting _bold_. Like, bolder than he’s ever been through text, and that was already too much for Red to handle. That can be the only explanation, Red is sure, _Ricky’s drunk_ , for why Ricky says what he says next:

“Do you wanna take your shirt off?”

Red gapes.

“So I can clean it,” Ricky shrugs, “Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing you with your shirt off,” he rolls his eyes playfully and tosses the wet towel back in the sink behind him, then points a hand above and behind one of red’s shoulders, “Grab me a new towel so I can dry!”

And thank god he doesn’t have to answer. Red doesn’t think he could if he tried.

“I got it,” Red says, grabbing the towel and patting the wet spots of his shirt down himself. Ricky looks personally offended.

“Do you not like my cleaning skills?”

“Don’t quit your day job, Rick.”

“In it for the perks, I knew it!” He laughs, stepping back and leaning his back on the counter of the sink, his fingers drumming at the ledge.

“Hey, so are you!” Red counters.

“Crayons aren’t perks, Red,” Ricky hums, sporting an adorable closed lip smile.

“Okay then, what are some perks?” He baits him, finding some courage to match Ricky’s boldness in this very small bathroom they’ve locked themselves in.

“Well, you, are obviously, with me for the free medium iced coffees,” Ricky quirks his head to one side, “I’d just like to kiss you.”

Someone get this shit in writing because: What. The. Hell. Man. _No_ — what the _fuck_.

Red must have had more to drink than he counted because he’s obviously hallucinating.

“You’re crazy, man,” he chuckles nervously, because Ricky? Wants to kiss _him_?

“I’m not!” He goddamn _giggles_ again, stepping off his spot against the towel and almost boxing Red into the opposite wall, “I mean, obviously I’m not gonna kiss you if you don’t wanna kiss me, which I’ve gathered since you dodge me every time I try and flirt with you, but I’m hopeful if I hit you with enough free coffees maybe one day you’ll come around.”

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

He can’t stop the dumfounded question from leaving his lips. He’s fought every single one of his friends on this for _weeks,_ almost months, and they’ve been right? The whole time?

“I thought Ashlyn was your girlfriend that first day. So when I found out I was wrong, I asked you on a date with the vanilla latte but you didn’t take the cup. And then I was gonna kiss you that night I walked you home, but you ran away before I could even _ask_ ,” Ricky says, a grin on his lips still, “You make me so happy.”

What kind of rom-com fantasy…

“You still have beer on your shirt,” Ricky continues mindlessly, giggling as he points a finger to the top of Red’s shirt.

“Told you that you did a shit job at cleaning it,” Red teases, thinking he could push this looming kiss thing away manually. But his brain has switched from _Ricky Ricky Ricky_ to wanting to _kiss the living daylights_ out of Ricky Ricky Ricky. And he’s being so ridiculously cute and giggly that it’s feeling impossible.

“Oh yeah?” Ricky reaches behind him and turns the faucet on again, swinging his hand under the water and flicking a splash at Red, “That better?”

Red gasps when the water hits him, on his face and collarbone and immediately grins at Ricky’s cheeky, guilty expression, “Seriously?”

Ricky just splashes him again.

Red lunges forward and squints, trying to doge Ricky’s several attempts to throw more water at him. He feels the splashes catch in his hair, on his shirt, between his eyelashes and on the tip of his nose, but nothing feels stronger than the giddy light swelling in his chest every time Ricky laughs again. They duck and dodge each other, moving in small circles in the crowded bathroom, barely room to pass each other without someone bumping a hip or an elbow, catching the other’s hand or shoulder, stepping on toes and laughing the most joyous laugh Red’s ever felt. He feels it. Doesn’t just hear it, he feels it. He’s _never_ felt anything like this, and they’re barely together, just little touch-and-go touches, fleeting glances. It’s _wonderful_.

Ricky catches Red, finally, traps him, his back against the sink and Ricky’s hands pressed on the ledge of the counter on either side of Red’s waist and woah. _Woah_.

Ricky’s dropping giggles into Red’s collarbone, his forehead resting on his shoulder, “Probably not what you imagined when I said I could bring you and your friends to a party huh?”

“No, its even better,” Red laughs breathily, settling into their very _very_ close position. Those abs he could see earlier? Pressed right against Red’s own stained shirt. Red links one of his pinkies around Ricky’s, on the hand he can reach, and feeling bolder by the minute, lets a hand rest on Ricky’s back, hugging him just a little closer.

He walks his fingers up, lets himself give in to what he’d been pushing away and denying for so long, lets his fingers trace up the back of Ricky’s neck and loops a finger around one loose curl. He runs circles that rise and fall with Ricky’s chest.

Ricky’s giggles have died down, and Red cannot make out anything going on outside this bathroom. All he hears are his own thoughts, and boy, are they _loud_.

So maybe that’s why he finds himself whispering, “I’d have kissed you if you asked me that night you walked me home. I think I’d kiss you right now, too.”

The room is quiet and still for a moment, Red is sure he fucked the whole thing up, panicking.

But Ricky rolls his head to the side and leans up, his hands still next to Red’s waist, one pinky linked around his own, and with their noses just an inch from each other, Red notices Ricky’s pouting just a little.

“What’s wrong?” Red whispers again.

Ricky shakes his head.

“You can tell me anything.”

He sighs, “I really wanted our first kiss to taste like your favorite medium iced coffee, two pink packets of sugar, almond milk,” Ricky says, the words almost jumbled together, “Not like gross frat boy beer.”

Red lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You _really_ wanna kiss me?”

“So fucking bad.”

Red knows he has a few options here, and the voices of his friends are ringing loud in his ears, louder than any doubts he’d been harboring, holding onto, _clinging to_ for weeks. He _deserves_ this. He _deserves_ a sappy little coffee shop love story.

“Okay, you know what? Fuck it,” Red settles, finding an immense amount of confidence and rolling with it because the longer he has to stare at Ricky’s lips so close to his own, the less patience he has, “I’m only gonna say this because we’re both so drunk there is a good chance you forget the whole thing in the morning but…”

The right corner of Ricky’s lips quirks up in a smile.

“Dude, I absolutely _hate_ coffee.”

Ricky’s lips pop open into the shape of an ‘o’.

“What?”

“Hate it. Can’t stand the taste, like, _at all_ ,” Red nods quickly as a bemused smile stretches across his faces and starts slowly translating to a giggling Ricky, “I’ve been drinking _earl gray tea_ every day since the first time I walked into the coffee shop freshman year, until I saw you, and got so flustered because I had never seen a more attractive person in my entire life and ended up ordering myself a coffee, and I haven’t known how to break it to you since.”

“What the fuck?”

“ _That’s_ how I felt when you said you wanted to kiss me,” Red nods, “So honestly, if you still wanna ask, my answer is yes. I hate coffee so, I could really care less what you taste like.”

“Can I—”

“Yes.”

And before Ricky can even get the full question out, Red is on him, his hands sliding down his back and his chest pushed up against his and his lips, oh my god _his lips_. Ricky’s head dips a little to catch Red and he kisses him, over and over again. His lips a little chapped, parted slightly, moving fast and slow and Red can’t keep track of it all, his mind is so fuzzy and _he’s kissing Ricky. Ricky Ricky Ricky._

Ricky’s hands squeeze Red’s waist and it makes his gasp before surging back forward, his hands finding his head full of curls and his teeth toying at Ricky’s bottom lip.

It could taste like beer. Or coffee. Or anything at all. Red wouldn’t notice or care.

It’s hard to breathe, his chest tight and fluttery, but every time he tries to take a breath, Ricky’s lips chase his and swoop back in. His nose nudges at his cheek and Red feels like if Ricky weren’t holding him up against the back of the sink he’d just fall. And again, he wouldn’t care.

He’s kind of operating on autopilot, trusting his body to know what to do without any thought. It helps that Ricky is literally the greatest kisser Red has ever encountered. Boy had _moves._

“You have done the impossible,” Ricky whispers and finally lets Red breathe, “You make beer taste _good_.”

Short lived breath. Ricky is back on him, all over. He parts his lips and pulls at Red’s, leaves sloppy kisses on the corners of his lips, up his cheeks and on his nose. And now Red’s caught a bad case of the giggles.

“Stop, Ricky, that _tickles_ ,” Red nudges his shoulder to his ear, squirming as Ricky’s fingers dance up the sides of his waist and his lips make patterns out of kisses on his face.

“ _Tickle me pink_ ,” Ricky smirks.

“Are you seriously gonna quote Crayola to me right now?” Red sighs, breathily, “In the middle of making out?”

“Maybe I will, _lavender_ ,” Ricky plants a kiss on his right cheek.

“ _Sky blue_ ,” on his forehead.

“ _Vivid violet_ ,” his nose.

“ _Mango tango_ ,” he wiggles his eyebrows and Red tosses his head back in a laugh, Ricky puts that kiss on the underside of his jaw.

“ _Laser lemon_ ,” for his chin, “And _razzle dazzle rose_ ,” his other cheek.

“You forgot _jazzberry_ ,” Red whispers with a laugh.

“Best color for the best spot,” and Ricky kisses his lips once again.

They keep kissing, and Red is totally blissed out. Nothing exists except him and Ricky and his ridiculously wonderful kisses. _God,_ he wishes he had psyched himself up for this sooner. Ricky’s thigh presses between his legs and Red bites down on his lips to keep from doing something embarrassing because now he’s getting kissed right down his jaw and his neck and _is every first kiss like this?_ Surely, it’s _not_. Because this is _too good_.

He accidentally tugs on a lock of Ricky’s curls and it just makes Ricky’s kisses feel even better, if that were humanly possible.

“Still kind of offended you hate my coffee.”

“Well then, lucky it’s the only thing I hate about you.”

Red could die right there. Truly, Honestly. He’s never been so happy in his life.

He’s so wrapped up in the _Ricky Ricky Ricky_ of it all that he almost missed the loud knocking on the door.

It’s incessant, and Red wishes he could pretend he doesn’t hear it at all, but he’s got a conscience. He starts to push off his stance against the back of the sink.

“Ignore it, ignore it,” Ricky whispers emphatically, kissing him again, “Whoever it is, I hate them right now more than you hate my coffee.”

“That’s rude!” Red laughs, hitting Ricky on the shoulder and nudging him to stand up, the knocking getting louder, “We gotta let them in. What if they have to pee?”

Ricky all but whimpers at the loss of contact, and it takes a strength Red didn’t know he had to not just jump him again right then and there.

Red lets Ricky toy with his back pocket while he unlocks the door, and pulls it open.

Red would be terribly embarrassed to show himself in his current state to whoever was on the other side of the door, knowing for a fact his lips are swollen, his pupils blown and Ricky’s shirt is pushed up and his curls sticking up at odd, messy angles.

But it’s _Nini_ , and she looks way worse.

She seems relieved too, pushes into the bathroom before Red and Ricky could move, “I just need to pee.”

“See, Rick, told you they’d have to pee,” Red teases him, sitting up on the counter of the sink and swinging his feet, the giddy feeling of kissing still coursing through his body.

Ricky falls back and tucks his waist between Red’s legs, its so intimate and comfortable and cuddly and Red cannot believe this is _real._

Ricky absently touches Red wherever he can reach, more focused on seizing the opportunity to tease Nini for her smudged pink lipstick and hair that started tied up at the beginning of the night now falling loose over her shoulder, scrunchie missing.

Red recognizes the number scribbled in pen on the top of her hand as his best friend’s and it makes him smile.

“Yo, Nini, you plan on washing your hands after you pee?” Ricky continues to pester her, “Because you know, you’re gonna lose that number.”

“Shit,” she whispers.

“Pong rematch!” Ricky yells excitedly, jumping up and gripping the handle of the door, “You and Ash versus me and Red. If you guys win, I’ll get Red to send you Ashlyn’s number.”

“What do you get if you win?”

“Doesn’t matter, I already won,” Ricky pulls Red off the counter and kisses him soundly, catching him by complete surprise. Red gets lost in it again, kisses him back before he lets go with a large breath, and lets Ricky swing the door open, “See you downstairs, Neens!”

He yells, shutting the door behind him to let his friend use the bathroom. Back out in the hallway, readjusting to the dark lights and the loud music, Ricky pulls Red close to him.

“That was so cheesy,” Red laughs.

“You liked it.”

“Never said I didn’t,” he hums, reaches up on his tiptoes to peck his lips again, just because he figures he should seize the opportunity while he still has it, lost in the buzz of this crazy night.

“Hmm,” Ricky holds Red’s chin to keep him close, kisses him again, and again, “I regret setting up that pong game now.”

“I don’t think they’ll miss us. Gi and Kourtney love any kind of competition, they’ll fill in”

Ricky thinks it over, tilts his head to one side and then says, “Okay. Send me Ashlyn’s number for Nini and we’ll say screw it and keep making out?”

Red has never agreed to something so quickly.

“I think coffee makes hangovers worse?”

“Speak for yourself,” Gina holds the door open to the coffee shop, ushering her group of friends in, “Always does the trick.”

“No, scientifically, I _really_ think this is just gonna make my headache _worse_ ,” Carlos links an arm around Seb’s and starts towards the back corner booth, “But it tastes too good.”

“I feel _great_ ,” Ashlyn beams, settling into her seat, Red following behind her.

“Someone shut her up, please,” EJ teases, dropping his head on the lip of the table. Ashlyn basically skipped the whole walk to the coffee shop that the group made together, all finally coherent enough to meet up at 3pm the next day. Nini had texted her, thanks to Red’s pass on the phone number, and was meeting Ashlyn for that promised coffee date at 4.

“Oh be quiet, you,” Kourtney kicks him, “I finally saw who you’ve been keeping from us this whole time.”

“Oh my god, _who_?” Seb leans in for the gossip as the friends begin the chatter excitedly.

Red takes a backseat, tuning out slightly and sitting with his own thoughts instead of catching up on random party facts and stories that the seven of them can use to piece the night together. Any other morning after, it’d be entertaining for Red, but he had a few other things on his mind.

He didn’t want to sound desperate. There was the specific middle level of desperate Red was not afraid of, and that’s how he found himself here. Waiting very patiently for Ricky to text him before he sent a very embarrassing and _desperate_ one of his own.

Kissing Ricky was hands down the greatest thing Red has ever done. And he did it like, _several_ times last night. That he knows. He wasn’t so drunk that he forgot anything, but the tipsy kind of drunk that everything’s just a little fuzzy around the edges.

It’s not like he was expecting Ricky to text him the second he woke up, but the longer he waited, the more Red worried Ricky _had been_ the blackout kind of drunk, and he didn’t remember anything happening with Red that required a text in the morning.

It sucked. To put it lightly. But if Ricky forgot the whole thing, at least Red could keep the memory to himself, and maybe work up the courage to try it again, sober, in another 3-5 months.

It was eating away at him, and keeping him from joining in on his favorite day after party ritual of gossip over coffee in the back corner booth.

Not that he could tell any of them that.

“Red, I missed you last night,” Gina teased, pulling him out of his thoughts, “I lost you when I went to the bathroom with Kourt.”

“We played beer pong with mystery beer pong girl and pretty boy barista,” Ashlyn sings, and Red blushes.

“Oh my god!”

“No way!”

“Don’t tell me Ricky and Nini—”

“Yup,” Red nods, “I still don’t really believe it.”

“So, when’s _your_ coffee date, Reddie,” Seb says, and Red knows it’s said encouragingly, but it just makes Red’s stomach flip anxiously.

“Oh no, that’s not…”

“Is that where you disappeared to?”

“No, no, we just played pong and then we uh, hung out,” Red tries to keep his voice steady.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? ‘Hanging out’?” Carlos scoffs and the group laughs.

“Why’d we stop talking about EJ, huh?” Red looks over at his friend, trying to divert the group’s attention.

“We’re coming back to you later, Mister,” Gina eyes him, but seems sympathetic, “I’ll go get coffees, everyone wants but Ash, right?”

“Yes please!”

“Thank you, Porter!”

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves them off and hops out the booth, walking up to the counter to place their orders.

“So, in other news, we found out last night that drunk Carlos is very convincing,” Kourtney starts, bumping her shoulder against the boy’s.

“Oh my god, Kourt, you make it sound so bad,” he scoffs, “I saw some guys dancing and may have… drunkenly convinced them to sign up to dance in my show.”

“Okay, networking!”

“Will drunk dancing to rap music translate to jazz squares to show tunes?”

“I know talent when I see it,” Carlos says, “And even if it all falls apart, one of them was EJ’s secret boyfriend.”

“Oh my god!”

“We’re gonna need a bigger booth,” Seb giggles, “EJ’s boy, then Nini, and Ricky…”

“At least we know EJ’s boy’s _name_ , and don’t have to call him something dumb like ‘mystery beer pong girl’ for eight months.”

“Hey, that name had character!”

“Are you gonna introduce her to us as Nini when she walks in, or…”

“I’m _not_ introducing her! I’m moving to the couches over there and you guys are going to be quiet and _not_ cause a scene,” Ashlyn warns as their friends get excited.

“Hey, Red, can you help me carry these drinks over?” Gina yells from the counter.

He almost doesn’t hear her, stuck inside his head after Seb’s last comment. _Ricky Ricky Ricky._ He jumps at the sound of her voice and is momentarily thankful for the out from his friends’ questions.

He walks quickly and quietly over to Gina, who holds almost all of the cups, balanced between her arms and hugged to her chest.

“I can take some of those,” Red says, “Thought I was coming to help.”

“Yeah, just couldn’t grab that last one,” she smiles brightly, and runs away, leaving Red alone at the counter.

He reaches over and grabs the cup, spinning it around just a bit, and almost by accident, not even meaning to, catches the sloppy black handwriting scribbled on the side.

_earl gray_

_(like the color)_

Red involuntarily gasps when he reads it, and happens to look up at the perfect time to catch the eyes of one very pretty barista.

Ricky just smiles that heart-stopping smile and gives Red a very shy and nervous little wave.

_He remembered._

Red didn’t think he’d be working today, at least not now, Ricky worked the Saturday _night_ shift. It’s 3pm.

Red feels so flustered he just smiles back, and walks over to their booth, sitting down next to Gina.

“Nini asked him to switch shifts so he could be here to help her out if she royally screwed up on her coffee date,” Gina leans over and whispers, just so Red can hear.

“He’s a good friend,” Red nods absently, letting the hot tea cool down in his hands before taking a sip.

And isn’t it wonderful how everything suddenly lines up: his favorite drink from his favorite place with his favorite people and made by his favorite barista.

“No way!”

“Yes, yes way,” Red says with conviction, almost tripping over the sidewalk, “Today is the day. I’m gonna do it.”

“It’s not that I’m unsupportive in any way, I’m just shocked,” Ashlyn shakes her head in disbelief, “And half expecting you to still back out.”

“Nope, I gotta do it now Ash, or I don’t think I ever will,” Red skips excitedly in front of her, “I’m gonna ask Ricky out on a date.”

“Alright, if we’re _really_ doing this, hit me with the plan,” Ashlyn claps her hands together, game face on as they walk to the coffee shop on Tuesday after their last class of the day.

“You brought the Sharpie, right?” Red asks, and Ashlyn pulls the black marker out of her sweatshirt pocket with a flourish, “Okay, so. It’s a Tuesday, just like the day we met. I’m gonna go up and order both of us medium iced coffees.”

“You’re not gonna choke on your own breath this time?”

“Not appreciating the attitude but _yes_ ,” Red pushes Ashlyn and she wobbles slightly off the edge of the sidewalk with a laugh, “Generally, I’ve found after having had someone’s tongue down your throat a few times it’s a lot easier to talk to them without wanting to crawl into a hole.”

“I’m still pissed I had to wait three whole _days_ to hear about that,” she nudges him again, sending him wobbling this time.

“You were all excited about Nini, you deserved your own moment,” he hums, but then focuses again, “But now it’s my moment, back to the plan.”

“Right, two medium iced coffees, I’m picking them up at the counter…”

“…And you’ll bring them back to me, that’s where I’ll cross out my name on the cup, whatever dumb color he decides to put today—”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this but that is literally the cutest thing ever.”

“He’s pretty cute,” Red just shrugs, “But I’ll cross it out, use the Sharpie to write ‘Ricky, will you be my boyfriend?’ on the cup instead, go back up to the counter and tell him that there’s been a mistake.”

“Also just like the first day.”

“Exactly, and I’ll ask him to get me a vanilla latte instead, because that’s _his_ favorite coffee, and when I hand him back my cup to get the new drink, he’ll see the note.”

“And say ‘yes, of course’ and kiss you so much he gets fired.”

“Well yes to the ‘yes’ part but no to the fired thing,” Red says, “If this works out I’ll have a boyfriend who works at our favorite overpriced coffee shop and can hook us up with free earl gray teas and medium iced coffees.”

As if he manifested it, the coffee shop appears, and Red stops in front of the door with Ashlyn on his right.

“Dude, we did not just go through that whole thing for you to flake now,” Ashlyn squeezes his shoulder, “It’s gonna be so good. And he’s _not_ gonna say no.”

“No I know, I know that, it’s just,” Red lets out a long shaky breath, “Feels crazy. If you told the me from three months ago that I’d be doing this, I’d literally punch you in the face and call you insane.”

“I know, and I’m really proud of you, and so so ridiculously happy for you,” Ashlyn smiles and hugs him around the side, “You’re not gonna ditch me for a dumb boy, right?”

“Never, you know we _have_ something, Ash!”

“C’mon” she gives him one last squeeze before he reaches for the door handle and lets her in, “I’m still getting a free iced coffee out of this, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Red says, stepping in behind her, “You go grab our table and I’ll go—”

_What the hell_ , man.

Motivational speech and everything. For nothing.

Ricky is not here.

“Maybe he’s just in the back getting some more cups or sugar packets or something?”

“No, no, he works register every Tuesday afternoon,” Red shakes his head, looking over at the counter where customers in line place their orders, and steps out of the doorway with Ash, “It _is_ Tuesday right?”

“Yeah,” Ashlyn nods, “Nini didn’t mention anything to me—”

“You told her!?”

“She’s really excited for you guys,” Ashlyn shrugs, sinking away guiltily.

Red just huffs a laugh and pulls out his phone and yup, there it is, 13 missed text messages from two hours ago, shitty cell service in his lecture hall room just delivering them now:

_calling out sick today think my roommate gave me his cold :(_

_thank god he went home for the week I think if he were here I’d kill him for keeping me from seeing your face today_

_don’t let anyone mess up your tea_

_even though I KNOW no one makes it as good as me_

_lol i can hear you rolling your eyes rn_

_i miss you already_

_i am_

_WEAK_

_ok gonna take a nap in the middle of the day like an old person_

_pretend I’m giving you a nice kiss that won’t make you sick_

_mwah!_

_< 3_

_also happy tuesday coffee date hi ash !!!_

“He’s sick.”

“You literally have the worst luck out of any human being I’ve ever met,” Ashlyn laughs bitterly, “Every time in the past three months that you didn’t want him here, he showed up, and now that you _do_ want him here—”

“He’s not here, yeah, yeah,” Red sighs, stuffing his phone back into his back pocket.

Red is just resigning himself to order his tea in peace and move to get some work done in the back corner booth, like Tuesday coffee dates were created to do, when Ashlyn stops him with a hand.

“No, you know what? You said today’s the day, so today’s gonna be the day!”

“Ashlyn, what...“

She swings her backpack off one shoulder and in front of her, unzipping the top and pulling out her wallet to hand Red a five dollar bill.

“Think I owe you a coffee.”

Red isn’t sure how long it takes him to get to Ricky’s dorm, time moves different now that he’s on a mission. His feet move on their own accord, his mind not really translating anything other than its familiar _Ricky Ricky Ricky_ and the pressing need to make him his boyfriend and kiss him forever. He’s never been to Ricky’s dorm, but Ashlyn spilling to Nini did have its perks, and he’s swiftly sent the address and ushered off.

He’s knocking on the boy’s door in the hallway of the dorm before his mind catches up to his thoughts. He hasn’t worked out a single word he’s gonna say. But he feels so good and so bold on this Tuesday afternoon at 4 pm. He rocks back on his toes and shakes out the nerves. Today is the day. He _deserved_ his silly sappy coffee shop love story.

He knocks again, and faintly hears Ricky patter over to the door before swinging it open.

“Red?” Ricky rubs at his eyes, a large t-shirt hanging on his shoulders and loose flannel pants on his waist, looking disheveled and adorable. He yawns once but smiles, “What are you doing? I’m gonna get you sick.”

“I’m sorry, I really wanted to do this properly and everything, had a really cute thing all planned out, I brought Ashlyn and a Sharpie to the shop and I was gonna write on your cup and whatever, it was gonna be so cute. But none of that really matters right now at all,” Red starts rambling and _there they are,_ there’s the nerves.

Ricky just smiles at him endearingly, “Red, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I wanted to ask you on a date, like a _real_ one. Something casual like ‘wanna get coffee sometime?’ but not actually that because duh, why would I just bring you to _another_ coffee shop when we already spend all our time together there? I thought maybe like, to get ice cream, but it’s cold and almost November and I’m lactose intolerant, so also a dumb idea, but I don’t know, something like that, if you get my drift here,” Red wheezes, “And I’d hold your hand and compliment you and ask you to be my boyfriend all proper and romantic or whatever.”

“Do you wanna come inside—”

“But none of that really matters, when I thought about it, seeing you not at work today, because I literally _cannot_ stop thinking about you, like _ever_ ,” Red almost yells, his voice heavy with emotion, “It’s ridiculous, I like you _so much_ , and I talked myself out of trying to like you so many times, Ricky, _so many times,_ and so I don’t care if this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Today’s the day. And I like you. And I need you to know that. And I need you to let me kiss you.”

“Red, I—”

“I’m not finished,” Red holds a finger up to Ricky’s protests, feeling an exciting buzz in him, adrenaline rushing at how freeing it is to talk so openly about his emotions, because now that he’s started he doesn’t want to stop, and Ricky’s looking at him like that _and it feels so good_. Red holds up the white to-go cup from the coffee shop in his hand, showing it to Ricky, then continues, “I bought myself a vanilla latte, and sat in the booth with Ashlyn, and drank the whole thing.

Ricky covers his laugh with a hand.

“I drank a whole medium vanilla latte from my favorite coffee shop, just so I could run here, knock on your door, and let my favorite boy kiss me while I tasted like his favorite drink.”

Red tosses the empty cup between his hands, biting his bottom lip with the faint taste of vanilla latte.

“And so, I don’t care if I’ve deluded myself into thinking the cutest boy I’ve ever seen in my life somehow has a crush on me. I don’t care if I have to find another study spot because I’ve royally embarrassed myself by catching feelings and word-vomiting them all over you tonight while you stand here literally looking so annoyingly kissable. And I don’t care if you look at me and tell me I’m dead wrong, that the past three months of me falling in love with you haven’t been reciprocal, and you’ll just be ‘definitely not Ricky’ and I’ll just be ‘definitely not Red’ or yellow or purple or whatever color you want me to be today. Fucking jazzberry or timberwolf or Granny Smith apple green. _I don’t care_. Not one bit,” Red lets out a large shaky breath, and looks right into Ricky’s beautiful brown eyes before uttering the cheesiest, but truest, thing he’s ever said, “Because you make me feel the whole rainbow, Ricky, all 96 colors and counting.”

Ricky’s eyes scrunch up like they’re trying to make room for an even bigger smile to fit on his face.

“I didn’t care if you tasted like beer on Friday, and I don’t care if you’re sick right now,” Red shakes his head, stepping just a little closer to Ricky in his doorway, “All I care about is that _I_ taste like vanilla latte, and I’d literally like to taste anything else, because I still don’t like it.”

Ricky doesn’t say anything for a good minute, and Red can feel every beat of his heart. He traces Ricky’s eyes on their path from the cup in his hand, up to Red’s eyes, down to his toes and the cup, his lips, his eyes, his lips, the cup, Red’s button-down shirt, his eyes, _his lips_. He quietly bites his own, and Red’s getting impatient.

“I also wrote on here that I want you to be my boyfriend,” Red throws the cup up and catches it in his hands, nervously, hyper-aware of the silence and the way Ricky is still looking at his lips, “But now that I’m here I should probably just ask you in person, so—”

“Yes.”

And with that little syllable, Ricky knocks the cup out of Red’s hand and pulls him in by the waist, holding him flush against his body and slotting his lips between his own, an electrifying feeling familiar to Red in the absolute _best_ way.

He feels like the protagonist of his favorite rom-com, like his foot could pop at any moment, the way his back is slightly dipped under Ricky’s pull on him, kissing him over and over and over again, back to that nasty habit of not letting Red breathe, rushing for another kiss every time his lips move or part, every little involuntary gasp that leaves Red.

No one has ever kissed Red with more passion in his life. He is sure of it.

When Ricky finally pulls back, has mercy on Red’s oxygen intake and his general sanity, he moves back just enough to look at him under hooded lids and fluttered lashes, their noses bopping together in little Eskimo kisses.

Red could literally _swoon_.

Ricky’s thumbs run over his cheeks where he holds his face in his hands, and he whispers softly, “Yeah, you can tell I didn’t make that coffee, it sucks.”

“So you agree, coffee is terrible?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should let me try again, just to be sure I’m making the right call.”

“Absolutely, we need to launch a full federal investigation on the matter immediately. Spare no expense.”

“Oh my god, you _dork_ ,” Ricky laughs breathily, his eyes squeezed shut, “I could _kiss you_.”

“You could,” Red eases up on his tip toes, “So why aren’t you?”

“You got my text about my roommate being gone—”

“Yup, yup, why do you think literally _ran_ here?” Red kisses Ricky’s nose, “I don’t do cardio for just anyone.”

“Well _tickle me pink_ , aren’t I special?”

So Ricky pulls him into his room by the collar of his sweatshirt, leaving the empty coffee cup out in the hallway before slamming his door shut with a resounding thud.

And Red will never tell a soul, but maybe coffee’s not so bad after all. _Boyfriend_ sure does taste pretty sweet.


End file.
